


Goodnight Sburb (We Met as Soulmates)

by a_mere_trifle



Series: Goodnight Sburb [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Character Study, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mere_trifle/pseuds/a_mere_trifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Alternate Universe) Elizabeth Lalonde (ubiquitiousUrbanite to her truest friends) is living a normal life in a normal world, juggling school friends and online friends. But then playing the hottest new game changes everything...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Retrospective

**Author's Note:**

> So this began in 2011, partly as a response to [a kink meme prompt](http://homesmut.dreamwidth.org/8594.html?thread=15043986#cmt15043986). This means that the characters here bear little resemblance to the canon Alpha Kids, who had only been strongly hinted at then. Which means that they're in a _really_ confusing limbo between canon characters and OCs. So I've listed them as both, and this is your fair warning that this is _kind_ of Roxy Lalonde et al., but not quite-- or-- not quite, _yet_?... YMMV.
> 
> Anyway, logistics-wise, I will be posting this haphazardly into chapters here, then posting the intermission as a separate fic in the same series, and part two as a third. Eventually, anyway. I've gotten even worse about updating since I got a job, and that was a low bar to fail to clear. >_>

\--

The needles were smooth in her hands, and heavier than they looked. They were thick, and black, subtly banded, with fine, glittering hairs that drew blood when rubbed the wrong way; she knew because she'd tried it. 

Accidentally, of course.

 _You're only supposed to do this as you're dying, foolish girl,_ she reminded herself; but she had always been the neurotic type, replaying interactions in her head even at the best of times, compulsively looking for that perfect solution, even if it didn't really matter, couldn't make a difference.

It was really no wonder she was seeing her life flash before her eyes three minutes early.

\--

The truth was, she was intimidated by her mother nearly from the start.

"Mommy, come watch," she said once, gesturing at some cartoon on the screen-- she'd loved it at the time, but long forgotten the name, never daring to look it up; she was certain that it would not withstand the test of time. 

She had, at least nominally attentive as always, a glass of dark wine in her hand; she'd spent the whole half hour with her attention flitting excitedly between the excitement on the screen and her mother, willing her to share in the fun. 

After the requisite glitter epileptic flashes, the episode had ended, and she'd turned to her mother, seeking-- she didn't know what. Approval, she supposed, perhaps just a sign of something shared and loved.

Her mother said, "Very nice, dear," and got up, her glass empty. As she blinked, confused by her mother's lack of enthusiasm, she heard her mutter, "The damsel-in-distress trope, haven't we grown past that cliche...?"

She hadn't known what that meant at the time, but one thing had been sufficiently clear; her mother had judged the show and found it wanting. 

Somehow, after that, she could never quite enjoy it the same way again.

\--

They were never rich-- one-income households rarely were-- but they lived well enough, with all the middle-class trappings accentuated by her mother's sense of style. The house was nearly Victorian in its trappings, more austere than rococo, all shining brass and darkly polished curves of wood. It had rubbed off on her-- or maybe she'd adopted it willingly-- or perhaps it was genetic, because the neighborhood children shunned her and her prim, deliberate ways. She didn't like to get dirty; she wouldn't play childish games.

She thought she wasn't jealous, but she always knew exactly where they were.

As she got older, she parlayed these talents into a skill for gossip, finally netting herself a small but genuine clique of friends. She was the one who knew everything-- about Hollywood, about the school, and though she was almost never asked, about the subjects. She never had quite the same fashion as the other children, and there were some teasing remarks-- she was too old, too snotty, a throwback-- but it was far too polished for them to pretend it was anything else. On the whole, she was respected instead of mocked-- and where she was neither, she was, at least, feared.

When she chose an IM screenname, she picked ubiquitousUrbanite.

\--

She loved science, though she didn't talk about it much at school-- for her most recent birthday, her mother had given her a telescope, a chemistry set, and a scholarly article on the resilience of gender norms in young children. She supposed it was meant to say, "I know why you're hiding this; they'll grow up." At the time it just made her feel like a coward and a cliche.

Still, she didn't allow it to discourage her; she enjoyed the art too much for that. She borrowed books on Astronomy from the library, picked up a few on Astrology out of confusion and then mild fascination, memorized the names of the genetic bases and how they fit together. She dabbled in every science, found some dearer than others, and kept the hobby quiet; there was simply no one she could talk to about it. She suspected that her popularity in school was a fragile thing, and she was already at the very limits of the esoteric permissible.

But she could cast a broader, a narrower net online. 

One day she was reading a science forum, when she came across a thread on chemistry in cooking. The author was quite enthusiastic about the subject, linking to Youtube clips of some fascinatingly ridiculous food science show; a large number of the forum's young denizens were stupid, silly boys, scornful of stupid girly things like cooking. Not all, to be sure, but the vast majority; and she defended herself furiously and valiantly, but it was clear that it hurt. She winced herself in reading it, wrote up a cold, scathing defense-- and found herself hesitating, chewing lightly at her lip.

 _Well, what can it harm,_ she thought, and brought up a PM.

_Madam:_

_I would like to commend you on your valiant efforts against these seething, possibly cootie-ridden hordes. They are rude and idiotic, and they shall either outgrow this petty ignorance, or live out their lives as half-competent scientists at best, ignored by all women of worth. As a fellow warrior in the cause, as it were, I urge you to maintain your determination-- it is appreciated._

_Sincerely,  
ubiqutiousUrbanite_

She sent it, and continued on her way; and the next day, she had received a reply.

_Hi!!_

_Thanks so much!! I saw what you wrote in the thread and it was positively spiffy! I can never write quite the way they do and that means they don't listen to me a lot of the time. Well, that and I'm a girl talking about cooking! Like chemistry is soooo different!! But you really socked it to them. Kind of fighting them on their own ground, I'd say!_

_Anyway, I'm not sure I read you right-- are you really a girl too?? There aren't a lot of us on this forum and it always makes me smile to see one, heehee! I don't have a vast number of friends IRL and being alone even on a geeky science forum makes me feel rather lonesome. So, thank you so much!_

_BTW, I have a really awesome plan to get back at some of these peckerheads! Not in a really mean way, but they really have it coming, and maybe it's the only way to get some things through their thick skulls! Do you want in on the gag, by any chance?_

_Thanks again! I do dearly hope to see you around! :D  
gourmetUtopian_

She blinked at the screen, at the strange, seemingly affected speech-- somehow she hadn't allowed herself to expect any answer, but if she had tried her hand at prognostication, she wouldn't have come up with anything like this. 

Utterly absurd, of course. But... strangely charming, too.

_gU:_

_I must admit, I would positively love to hear the details. Please PM me-- or, I am on IM or IRC with the same username._

_Regards,  
uU_

It didn't quite occur to her at the time that she was starting a friendship. Later, in retrospect, it would become perfectly-- then painfully-- clear.

\--


	2. Strider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Well, what do you know," said Strider, and didn't elaborate. She supposed he'd expected her to be something different. She wasn't at all sure why she hadn't pretended to be. Perhaps... because he was an outcast. He was safe. Who was he going to tell?

\--

Jane Sassacre had quickly become her best, and strangest, friend. Her revenge plot hadn't gone off without a hitch-- there had been several glitches, in fact, but each setback almost seemed to make her happier, another challenge to surmount-- but it had gone off, and it was going to be the stuff of legends for years, she knew it.

_No, really, you and I are bound to go places,_ Jane wrote. _Any place in the entire world we like!_

Jane wasn't the type of person she would have associated with in real life; that was painfully clear to her. She was geeky, with huge glasses and Harry Potter hair and a bucktoothed grin; she had a geek's passion, a love of life that was all her own, a thoroughly unironic love for pranks and jokes and outdated civilities. She could quote you Mark Twain, fool you with cheap magic tricks no matter how closely you watched, no matter how sure you were you knew how the trick was done. Perhaps watching through webcams put her at a disadvantage, but she suspected she would have had even worse luck in person. 

She wouldn't have been friends with Jane if she'd met her at school. But there wasn't anybody like Jane at school. There might not be anyone like her anywhere. 

It was possible her "friends" at school might be more aptly described as "acquaintances".

The school year wore on; her brush with uncoolness did not alter her public poise. Some of her friends began to murmur about boys; she deflected every suggestion made to her with a morsel of well-chosen gossip. It was usually even true. 

Melanie was a meddler to her bones, but she was cleverer than Melanie; a well-timed trip to the bathroom, and she arrived to Biology class a few minutes too late, the room slowly settling, partners beside partners, Ian the proto-jock safely matched with Alicia, the nervous blonde.

"Where have you been?!" Melanie hissed. "We've all got partners, I was going to set you up with Ian, now you're gonna be stuck with--"

"Yo," said the new boy. He'd been in class since the beginning of the year, but he was still the new boy to them, aloof, with a perpetual backward baseball cap and red triangle shades, no matter how often the teachers told him to take them off. He was far too tall, laconic and dangerous; and there was no one left standing in the room.

"Well, that settles it!" said Ms. Reynolds, clapping her hands and turning to the board. "Now, you're going to need to work together on this project, both in and out of class, so take a little time to get to know each other while I get this presentation set up."

The new boy cocked an eyebrow; Melanie moaned, despairing, as she settled down, primly, beside him, the center table in the very back row. She wasn't worried. She knew she could finish the project herself, in hardly more than a night.

"Lalonde, huh," said the boy, something resigned in his voice, and stuck out a hand. "Strider."

"A pleasure," she lied, shaking it.

"Sorry your winggirl couldn't set you up to pin the tail on Eeyore over there." Strider jerked his head, minutely. 

"Ian?" she said. "Why do you _think_ I arrived late?"

"...Heh," said Strider. "Dude's a prick."

"Shakes people down for their lunch money, yes," she replied. "Soon enough I imagine he'll be doing the same to football fans, friends and family, with perhaps a touch more sophistication. A brilliant success I nonetheless have no desire to 'hitch my wagon to'."

"Well, what do you know," said Strider, and didn't elaborate. She supposed he'd expected her to be something different. She wasn't at all sure why she hadn't pretended to be. Perhaps... because he was an outcast. He was safe. Who was he going to tell?

"...I need this grade, lady," he said, quietly, with nothing so obvious as a furtive glance around. "I don't give a shit what these tools think but I can't have them too far up my ass."

She looked at him, coolly; she still wasn't sure if she liked him in the slightest. "I wouldn't worry about that," she said.

He looked like he wasn't sure he trusted her, either, but the teacher was talking again, now, and bundles of papers were coming at them from both sides. They gave each other one last glance, uneasy, temporary allies, and turned their attention to more immediate affairs.

\--

Jane had an idea for another project, one she hadn't fully explained yet; it had something to do with some Betty Crocker initiative that utilized some sort of sexist propaganda. (Jane hated Betty Crocker; she assumed it was due to a gourmand's hatred of processed, chemical mixes.) Jane never IMed her during the school day, but she would sometimes in the early afternoon; she felt that this should be a bit intrusive, perhaps worrying, but she couldn't really bring herself to mind. 

She looked at her phone, a bit anxious; she'd told Jane not to disturb her this afternoon, that she had an important project, but Jane could be terribly forgetful about such things. Somehow, she didn't want Strider to know about Jane; though certainly she could pass it off simply as a call from a friend, unless he was so gauche as to snatch the phone from her, reading her messages. Then again, perhaps he was that gauche. She knew most of the rumors about him to be false, inventive stories written by the bored when faced with no contradictory evidence; but he was still an enigma, even to her, and that made her-- terribly nervous.

They were meeting at the public library, the closest branch; she hoped they would be able to find sufficient information there, but she could always simply order the extra materials, finishing the job herself. It wasn't particularly far, but she'd sent her mother a text anyway; her mother had never asked her to, asking few, if any, questions as long as she made it home for dinner. That might, perversely, have been why she always made certain to inform her of her plans; and it had occured to her about a month ago, in a particularly queasy revelation, that that might be _precicely_ why her mother cultivated an attitude of unconcern. Or did she just want to believe that...?

Having a psychologist mother was a serious bitch, she thought, and turned the corner at the end of the block.

There, to her surprise, was Strider; and there, to get greater surprise, was a rather tall and burly man, his hand on Strider's shoulder in a terribly menacing way. 

\--" _owe_ me," the man was growling.

"Shit, man, I made my last payment right on fuckin' time, last week, you seriously too fuckin' high to remember?"

"Maybe I'm jackin' up the rent," the man growled. "Maybe you're gonna pay it. Maybe you got too many secrets too many city fuckin' agencies would love to hear."

He leaned closer-- or he should have; but Strider wasn't there. "Maybe I've got a fuckin' katana," he said, from behind the man-- and as the man turned, she saw that he did, in fact, have a fucking katana. Who in the hell had a fucking katana?

"You threatenin' me?" said the man.

"Way to catch on, bro!" said Strider, flashing a thumbs-up.

The man lunged at him; Strider danced away, easily, swinging the hilt at the man's shoulders. He hit, but the man only staggered for a moment, before lunging again. She couldn't really make much sense of it, had never watched much fighting before, but she was pretty sure in real life it wasn't supposed to be this _graceful_ ; Strider was a slippery bastard, handling that sword almost like he knew how to use it, and where the fuck did you learn that in modern-day America? 

The other guy was fumbling more or less blindly, reaching out to hit or grab whatever he could get; that wasn't usually much, but one lucky shot ripped Strider's backpack half off, pens and books hitting the sidewalk-- as well as something blue, that she couldn't identify. 

"Fucking little-- fine!" yelled the man, finally backing off; his shirt was considerably more ragged than it had been, and there was a cut scoring his face. "Right, right, I guess I, misunderstood."

"Damn right," spat Strider.

"See you next month," said the man, and hurried off, with a complete lack of dignity.

"Like I'm dumb enough to stay in your shithole another month now..." Strider muttered, turning back toward her, and stopping stock-still the moment he saw her face. "...Fuck."

She stepped toward him, kneeling dantily, picking up the blue thing from the ground; it appeared to be--

"It's a puppet, okay," said Strider, grabbing it rudely from her hands.

She raised an eyebrow. "One with a peculiarly protuberant posterior," she noted, gathering up his pen, holding them out.

He stared at her for a moment, then took them. "It's a living," he muttered. "Look... you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Can't tell anyone what?"

"Don't tell me a chick like you hasn't figured it out..."

"That, as a student being harassed by a landlord, you are evidently living, functionally or literally, alone? And most likely are running a perverse business of dubious legality on the side."

"Yeah," he said, "that. That's what you can't tell anyone. I don't give a shit what those little punks think of me, but they'll report my ass to the state, and fuck that, Lalonde, okay?"

"I'd prefer not to, thanks." She rose, dusting off her knees. "Let's get going."

"Seriously, Lalonde--"

"This is a fairly important project--"

"--you're the gossip queen of the whole fuckin' school, don't you stand there like you don't have a clue what I mean--"

"Strider," she said, voice cold. "Do I have the slightest fucking clue who you are?"

Strider tilted his head. "...No," he said, still a bit wary, waiting for a trap. 

"Maybe that goes both ways," she said. 

Strider stood there, obviously unconvinced, and she wondered suddenly why she _wasn't_ going to tell anyone. Certainly she'd let painful secrets slip before. Was this simply more personal, of more dramatic magnitude?

No-- that wasn't quite it at all.

"I trade in secrets for power," she said. "To buy the right to be left alone. Humiliating you, destroying your life, does nothing for me. I don't need to build up my reputation. I don't need a distraction. I would take no pleasure in it. I have no reason to tell."

"And if you do need, a distraction or a reputation or whatever... would you rat me out then?"

"...No," she said, frustratingly uncertain as to why.

"....Lalonde," said Strider, "you are the weirdest fucking chick I've ever met."

She arched an eyebrow. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"I keep naked puppets and a katana in my backpack; what the fuck do _you_ think?"

She shook her head. "If this idiocy is over," she said, "could we please begin work on our project now?"

"...Sure," said Strider, and thrust his katana into a sheath at his back (and how had she never noticed that? Obviously he couldn't wear it at school-- right?) He headed toward the library, as it nothing had happened; and, after a moment, so did she.

\--


	3. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had a different nickname for every occasion, and sometimes she wasn't really sure if any of them were her.

\--

They might have reached a truce, but she doubted the friendship would've lasted beyond the project if it hadn't been for Jane. She'd been looking up Strider's "side-business", out of curiosity or wariness or her old desire to know things, when Jane had IMed her, full of ire. She had run afoul of a jerk, as she was peculiarly wont to do, and she was seeking justice, or perhaps revenge.

gourmetUtopian: but the ol' compromising-material gag is enough of a chestnut as it is!  
gourmetUtopian: after his shameful behavior there would be such a lovely balance to it though.  
gourmetUtopian: symmetrical, i guess!  
gourmetUtopian: maybe if i could find something real unique...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You know, I just might have the perfect thing for you.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A new acquaintance of mine appears to produce some peculiarly pornographic puppet presentations.  
gourmetUtopian: hoohoo!  
gourmetUtopian: i can't say i can imagine what that would entail but it sounds like a hoot!!  
gourmetUtopian: friend of yours?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Sort of.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A classmate, as it were.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We're working on a project together.

Another window chimed; Melanie, she realized, with a sigh.

melanie*montana95: omg!! liz!!  
melanie*montana95: youll never guess what happened!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ??  
melanie*montana95: its ean!!  
melanie*montana95: they just arrested him!!  
melanie*montana95: they say he was buying drugs!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: omg. so that's what he was doing with the lunch money.  
melanie*montana95: oh no it was true wasnt it?? :'(  
melanie*montana95: i didnt believe you cos he was so hawt!!  
melanie*montana95: but i guess he was just a huge lozer anyway  
ubiquitousUrbanite: good thing i'm not on a project with that slimeball.  
melanie*montana95: i guess its even worse than new kid!!  
melanie*montana95: are you doing ok?? i bet hes not helping at all, we can totally pitch in!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: no thanks, i think it will work out. he's not too bad.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: and i can pick up a lot of slack.  
melanie*montana95: lol i bet! :D  
melanie*montana95: neway we still on for tomorrow right??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: of course mel!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: 6?  
melanie*montana95: oh can it be 6:30 mom flips if we dont finish ~*family dinner*~ :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: certainly. see you then!

She switched back over to Jane's screen, feeling fortunate that Melanie typed nearly as quickly as she spoke.

gourmetUtopian: this is that biology project boy, huh!  
gourmetUtopian: it sounded to me like something awful mysterious was going on there :O  
gourmetUtopian: do you faaaaancy the boy??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What? No.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Without a doubt the boy's mysterious; but I believe I've just explained why.  
gourmetUtopian: well, true, i guess puppet pornography is a bit peculiar!!  
gourmetUtopian: heehee!  
gourmetUtopian: anyway it sounds like just the ticket!!  
gourmetUtopian: i don't suppose you could get me in touch with the purveyor of such fine goods??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why would you need to talk to him? I could just send you the link..  
gourmetUtopian: i guess! but you've given me some IDEAS!!  
gourmetUtopian: heehee!!  
gourmetUtopian: and you know me, i just follow where the ideas take me :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You must obey the inscrutable exhortations of your soul.  
gourmetUtopian: uhhuh!  
gourmetUtopian: do you have his phone or email or something??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I somehow doubt I should be getting myself involved in this...  
gourmetUtopian: you know you want to :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: He is nearly always on some IM service or another. His handle is the extraordinarily self-effacing ultimateGrandmaster.  
gourmetUtopian: boy thinks well of himself, huh!  
gourmetUtopian: i suppose that's a pretty good thing!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perhaps.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The preponderance of psychological evidence would seem to suggest so, but it can quite easily grow excessive.  
gourmetUtopian: heehee!  
gourmetUtopian: thanks, lizzie! :D

She grimaced, instinctively, eyes flickering to the other IM window still open.

ubiquitousUrbanite: I asked you not to call me that.  
gourmetUtopian: aw, do forgive me! it keeps slipping my mind!!  
gourmetUtopian: elizabeth is an awful mouthful. and lalonde seems, just too distant!  
gourmetUtopian: and i defenitely remember what you said about eliza. :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I despise 'My Fair Lady'. It's quite ruined the name for me.  
gourmetUtopian: yeah, that was it, dear! ;)  
gourmetUtopian: beth? betty??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...It doesn't really matter much, I suppose.  
gourmetUtopian: i am sorry. it's horribly rude. :(  
gourmetUtopian: i'll try to remember next time!! or just keep calling you sweetheart?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you even from the South?  
gourmetUtopian: why, that's a rude thing to ask a lady! ;)  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Since when...?  
gourmetUtopian: since i said so! :D  
gourmetUtopian: anyway, thanks!! i've got to be off for supper.  
gourmetUtopian: i'll let you know how the plot goes!!

With that, Jane was gone; and she sighed, hands massaging her temples. 

_One of the reasons I picked Elizabeth,_ her mother had said, _was to allow you to choose your own identity. I can hardly think of another name with so many potential nicknames; it is yours to alter as you choose. Given that you would be stuck with it for a considerable length of time, a sensitive and formative time as well, I wished it to be as adaptable as possible._

The trouble was, she thought, it was too adaptable. She had a different nickname for every occasion, and sometimes she wasn't really sure if any of them were her.

She was a different person with every set of friends-- and the worst thing, the thing she only rarely admitted even to herself, was that she was perfectly fine with that.

\--


	4. Madmen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrulousGamesman: k look here is another thing!  
> garrulousGamesman: i just brought down a delicious elk. both i and mine shall dine well tonight.  
> garrulousGamesman: and how have you contributed to your familys welfare today?? i think you have not!!

\--

She rode out the presentation on a mild surge of adrenaline; they were the third-to-last group, and she hadn't had to finish it all herself after all. She had, admittedly, taken most of the research work, synthesizing the findings into the graded report; but in return, Strider had taken on the formatting and the class presentation, and it was-- it could not be denied-- fucking _slick_. The guy had an eye for graphics, and, less obviously, for entertainment; she'd been worried a time or two that it would land them in trouble, but a stolen glance at the teacher proved that she was laughing just as hard as everyone else. He toed the line, and he did it with style, and all in all it was probably the best and least painful group project she had endured to date.

"You were excellent," she told him, for fairness' sake, in the swell of students leaving the classroom as the bell rang.

"Thanks, lady," he said, with a faint but genuine smile. "By the way, thanks for giving some crazy Southern chick my IM handle."

She raised an eyebrow. "Was it terribly rude of me?"

"Ironically? I'm pretty sure I meant that literally." He shook his head. "Bet Marsha Twain's gonna tell you all about it, though."

"A prank of that magnitude?" She laughed. "Doubtless." 

"See you around, Lalonde," he said, and paused, just before he walked out the door. "Maybe don't be a stranger, okay?"

He left, and she wondered if he was still worried she would betray him, if she had just been waiting until there was nothing he could do in retaliation. Or perhaps he had romantic designs, now that she had become aware of the majority of his idiosyncrasies and shown no obvious repulsion.

There was a slight possibility that he derived some genuine friendly enjoyment from her company. But she wasn't going to believe that until she'd exhausted every other possibility.

Her usual coterie of friends would be waiting at the lunch table, she knew, and though they were great believers in the concept of being "fashionably late", she preferred not to keep them waiting for too long. She started for the hall again--

\--And her phone chimed, with an IM. She frowned; Jane was quite good about not phoning during school hours, and her friends surely would not have missed her yet; what might this be?

garrulousGamesman: k look here is another thing!  
garrulousGamesman: i just brought down a delicious elk. both i and mine shall dine well tonight.  
garrulousGamesman: and how have you contributed to your familys welfare today?? i think you have not!!  
garrulousGamesman: what else defines responsibility then my lady??  
garrulousGamesman: i greatly look forward to your answer!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Excuse me?  
garrulousGamesman: i hardly think i need to repeat myself in print!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I think you have the wrong screenname.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Though I suppose I am obliquely privileged to have been involved in such insanity.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Shall I block you now, or would you prefer to apologize first?  
garrulousGamesman: is this another of your  
garrulousGamesman: oh botheration.  
garrulousGamesman: i have all the time sense of a drunken wombat.  
garrulousGamesman: and more irresponsible fuzzy louts you have never seen!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I shall have to accept your dubious authority on the phenomenon.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Good day.  
garrulousGamesman: wait!  
garrulousGamesman: please hang on a moment maam.  
garrulousGamesman: due to my abominable bumbling i am obliged to introduce myself.  
garrulousGamesman: for though i roam the wilds i still cling to my gentlemanly lineage!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That must be wonderful for you.  
garrulousGamesman: i am garrulousGamesman!! explorer extraordinaire.  
garrulousGamesman: i live in the wild and adventure with my faithful pet!!  
garrulousGamesman: you may call me harley.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Fantastic.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Might I ask what brings me this unimaginable pleasure?  
garrulousGamesman: kismet!  
garrulousGamesman: our destinies are intertwined. our greatest journeys are all ahead of us!!  
garrulousGamesman: i have been meaning to introduce myself. though i did not intend for it to be like this!!  
garrulousGamesman: and as usual ive bungled the timing. so i suppose i must be off.  
garrulousGamesman: ask our dear janet about it!! i probably seem like quite the raving madman!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I don't know any Janet.  
garrulousGamesman: surely im not THAT far off!!  
garrulousGamesman: jane? our cheerful, puckish baking friend?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You know Jane?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why on earth is that at all surprising to me?  
garrulousGamesman: sharp girl!  
garrulousGamesman: youll get the hang of it right quick!!  
garrulousGamesman: but yes i do in fact have the pleasure!!  
garrulousGamesman: and soon i shall talk with you as well.  
garrulousGamesman: i look forward to our next meeting!!

The screenname flipped offline; she stared at her phone, bemused. _Jane, we are going to have words over this... you shouldn't be giving my SN out to your lunatic friends._

But then, she'd been guilty of the same offense. Perhaps that was simply part of friendship.

She wasn't entirely sure she'd know.

\--


	5. Esoteric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ubiquitousUrbanite: ...  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: *Taxidermy*?!  
> gourmetUtopian: oh god i am not making him sound like less of a creep am i ;_;

\--

The incident was indelible, and so she sought out Jane; naturally, she chose that night to show up later than usual. Despite that, as the girl usually did, Jane somehow managed to message her first.

gourmetUtopian: hiiiiiii!!  
gourmetUtopian: how are you doing??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Rather well, I suppose.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A dash of the esoteric adds a certain spice to one's day.  
gourmetUtopian: oooooooh, esoteric??  
gourmetUtopian: sounds like you had yourself a time!!  
gourmetUtopian: strider-boy didn't include some of his *wares* in that presentation of yours, did he??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Heh.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That might have been the only thing that would have been odder than what actually happened...  
gourmetUtopian: i didn't think he really would, that boy cares a lot about doing things right!!  
gourmetUtopian: that project especially!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh?  
gourmetUtopian: i think a lot of his grade was depending on it!  
gourmetUtopian: he talked to me a lot about you...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh?  
gourmetUtopian: don't you "oh" me, young lady! you know i wouldn't talk you down!!  
gourmetUtopian: he wanted to know if you were trustworthy. if you'd stand by a friend!  
gourmetUtopian: and i told him i knew you would!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: --My apologies.  
gourmetUtopian: sometimes i think you don't know it yourself, though!!  
gourmetUtopian: anyway if it wasn't strider's salacious simulacrums that made your day strange, then what was it??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How long did it take you to come up with that alliteration?  
gourmetUtopian: about five minutes!  
gourmetUtopian: but spiiiiiiilllllll! or i'll tell him about *lizzie*!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm called "Liz" at school, Jane...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That's why I don't particularly like it.  
gourmetUtopian: oh!  
gourmetUtopian: but lizzie is different right?? it has another z and i and e and things!  
gourmetUtopian: a whole nother syllable!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You might have a point, I suppose.  
gourmetUtopian: i often do!!  
gourmetUtopian: now it is well past time for your tales of the weird, young lady!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It might not live up to the hype.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It was the strangest misplaced IM conversation.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Some... displaced young Indiana Jones...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perhaps more Robinson Crusoe, or a young Teddy Roosevelt...  
gourmetUtopian: the adventurer type?? :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: He boasted of his hunting prowess, and proceeded to ask me how I had provided for my family today.  
gourmetUtopian: ooooh noooooooo...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: He then apologized for his "time sense", and claimed acquaintance with you, "Janet"...  
gourmetUtopian: it's a variant of jane!!  
gourmetUtopian: which are both variants of john but this isn't really the time!!  
gourmetUtopian: it was garrulousGamesman, wasn't it??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: So you do know this character...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I suppose I am somewhat unsurprised that your circle of companions is esoteric.  
gourmetUtopian: yeah, he's really weird all right!!  
gourmetUtopian: but he is amiable and he means well i think.  
gourmetUtopian: he says an awful lot of weird things, though!  
gourmetUtopian: i think the boy might be touched in the head to be frank.  
gourmetUtopian: he's nice enough, though!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I admit the method he chose for his introduction does not fully endear me to him...  
gourmetUtopian: that's the weird thing!!  
gourmetUtopian: i was gonna tell you about him later this week!  
gourmetUtopian: i told him a little about you, but nothing like that!!  
gourmetUtopian: how did he even know your sn??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You hadn't told him?  
gourmetUtopian: no, i swear!!  
gourmetUtopian: i wouldn't without telling you first!!  
gourmetUtopian: internet safety, and just plain common courtesy!  
gourmetUtopian: i swear, sometimes he just seems to *know* things!! :o  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hmm.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: He sounds less and less like a stalker.  
gourmetUtopian: i know it sounds weird, but i really don't think he's a creep!!  
gourmetUtopian: he's big on shooting and stuffing things, sure.  
gourmetUtopian: and idk about the boy's social skills!  
gourmetUtopian: but he really isn't that bad!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: *Taxidermy*?!  
gourmetUtopian: oh god i am not making him sound like less of a creep am i ;_;  
gourmetUtopian: look, really, if you talk with him, he's weird, sure, but not *that* kind of weird!!  
gourmetUtopian: furthermore he's on the other side of the globe!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I do find that fact somewhat comforting...  
gourmetUtopian: most of the time!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, God.  
gourmetUtopian: no no no!!  
gourmetUtopian: aaaugh, i don't know how to explain it.  
gourmetUtopian: but i think he's a genuinely nice fellow, and i like him.  
gourmetUtopian: and i think it might be...  
gourmetUtopian: bah, it's so unscientific. you'll think i'm silly!  
gourmetUtopian: but i think it's important that we've met.  
gourmetUtopian: maybe it's just some of the things he says, and i promise you, i don't always believe him, either!  
gourmetUtopian: but i'm glad i know him. and strider. and i'm really really glad i met you!!  
gourmetUtopian: perhaps i've been watching the ol' boob tube too much these days, but i think we'd make a great group of friends.  
gourmetUtopian: or maybe it's just that i like you all!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It might be a little soon for us to start being so... chummy, though.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've hardly met this... person.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hell, I've hardly met Strider, if you think about it...  
gourmetUtopian: yeah, i guess you're right!  
gourmetUtopian: there isn't any hurry.  
gourmetUtopian: and it's perfectly all right if you don't like him, too!  
gourmetUtopian: even though i really want you to!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I suppose I will... reserve judgment on the matter.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Purely because you are a friend, you understand.  
gourmetUtopian: see?? you really are a good friend :D  
gourmetUtopian: i think he will be too!  
gourmetUtopian: and if not, it sure will be fun coming up with a way to kick his ass. :)  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, good, you have not entirely lost yourself after all.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: :)  
gourmetUtopian: hee hee hee, you think i'd pass up that kind of chance??  
gourmetUtopian: the only thing more fun than friend-pranks are revenge-pranks!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Ah, Jane. Never change.  
gourmetUtopian: i don't intend to, my dear! :D  
gourmetUtopian: anyway it is suppertime, and you know i can't miss that.  
gourmetUtopian: back in a couple hours!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: See you.

She sat back, staring at her ceiling, a ripple of unease running down her back. For a moment, she focused simply on where she was; stuccoed popcorn constellations of her ceiling, the faint creak of her ruthlessly simple but slowly fading office chair; the hum of the electronic equipment, the cool, smooth finish of her new desk. The air-conditioner was on, and her mother was speaking softly in the kitchen, a "professional" tone she used with her clients-- and occasionally, when she was particularly angry, with her. Nothing infuriated her more, ironically, than her mother at her most pacifistic, trying her best to _understand_...

_and how have you contributed to your familys welfare today??_

She sighed. She was a _responsible_ girl; her mother was _trusting her abilities_ and _encouraging her to develop her own interests_. If that meant they shared no more than occasional functional household conversations and the occasional polite dinner, well, her mother certainly didn't seem to mind. Perhaps she thought it was Elizabeth's responsibility to seek her out. That was the general rule with therapists, wasn't it...?

She often felt more like a patient than a daughter. Perhaps she was more content than she should be with filling that role, with letting that slide.

\--


	6. Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have always treated me as an independent person. We have always been independent people. Have we ever been mother and daughter?"
> 
> She waited a moment for the blow-- the dismissal, much more likely the probing, the Socratic dissection that would leave her forced to admit that all her thoughts were irrational and groundless without ever really convincing her they weren't true. It was always swift, and smooth, and syrupy-kind, and it had not yet fallen.
> 
> She opened her eyes; her mother was staring down at the alfredo sauce. Quietly, calmly, she said, "I don't believe I ever knew how."

\--

Arguing with "Harley" (she wouldn't be surprised if it was a pseudonym, affected after the popular motorcycle brand) rapidly became a pastime with her; not her favorite, nor her most time-consuming, but an avid and deadly serious one regardless. This argument had started the minute she left school-- a few minutes before, strictly, but this strict adherence to her actual schedule, despite their disparate time zones, was remarkable enough that she would concede this one as a success-- and continued sporadically throughout her errands, as she meandered her way home.

garrulousGamesman: i know you think me quite the lout!  
garrulousGamesman: dont bother lying madam it is quite clear.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What on earth does that have to do with your argument?  
garrulousGamesman: i am saying though my life may be unorthodox i can still be honourable!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: British spelling?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How... unaffected.  
garrulousGamesman: i like the british spelling dammit!!  
garrulousGamesman: it gives the word more...  
garrulousGamesman: vigour.  
garrulousGamesman: :P:P

She shook her head, stepping off the bus with an unconscious grace; rather as if public transportation was beneath her station. For now it was excusable-- she was too young to learn to drive-- but someday soon, her friends would be driving cars their parents bought for them, even if they weren't the bright-red monsters of cliche; and she suspected strongly that she would be stuck with her mother's car, on the rare occasions it wasn't in use, old and black and small and utterly nondescript. And most of the time, not even that. How would her friends react to that...?

ubiquitousUrbanite: Let us set aside grammatical issues, Harley; that is a battle I have long ceded against you.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It is simply not worth the astronomical effort it would take.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I will even cede that it is perfectly possible that you could live the life you describe and still be a perfectly respectable person.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hell, even a gentleman.  
garrulousGamesman: then what is the problem??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The problem is, I, as of yet, have no particular reason to believe this to be so!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I have little reason to trust you as of yet. I hardly even have a reason to believe you live as you say you do...  
garrulousGamesman: madam!!  
garrulousGamesman: what about the pictures??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You have heard of "Photoshop" out there in the vast wilds of Wherever, have you not...?  
garrulousGamesman: MADAM!!  
garrulousGamesman: i am offended!!

She smirked; she didn't think of herself as particularly cruel-- she had never, for instance, kicked a puppy-- and, despite her association with Jane, she was still not much of a prankster. There was, however, a certain delicious joy in toying with this stuffy little madman; whatever she thought of him, and she still was genuinely unsure, she had to admit that.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Am I besmirching your honour...?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Do you really expect me to trust absolutely everything you say, after two entire weeks...?  
garrulousGamesman: aaugh cease the ellipses!!  
garrulousGamesman: i guess youre right. it must sound kinda weird to you!  
garrulousGamesman: but youve got to hear me out!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I haven't blocked you yet, have I?  
garrulousGamesman: id rather we were better friends than that...  
garrulousGamesman: but for now i guess it will do!  
garrulousGamesman: anyway i can take it.  
garrulousGamesman: i am responsible and mature.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Mature?  
garrulousGamesman: when was the last time you fixed your own house??  
garrulousGamesman: and i dont take care of just me!  
garrulousGamesman: i have my dog too!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why is this your responsibility?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Forgive my phrasing, but have you no parents?  
garrulousGamesman: its rather complicated!  
garrulousGamesman: i used to live with my granny but there was an incident.  
garrulousGamesman: but she left me everything i need!  
garrulousGamesman: i can assure you i am just fine.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It actually is just you out there?

She frowned at the screen, disconcerted by the notion; it seemed the province of badly-written stories, a child living on their own. Of course, now she thought of it, Strider appeared to be pulling much the same trick; but this was a city, and he was obviously pulling in an income. To pull the same trick in the wild... probably _wasn't_ actually more difficult or improbably, but it _felt_ that way. Perhaps she was simply prejudiced toward the boy...

garrulousGamesman: i thought that is what i was telling you madam!!  
garrulousGamesman: yes!  
garrulousGamesman: it is!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is that...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Legal?  
garrulousGamesman: i think a lot of laws are silly!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, God.  
garrulousGamesman: my grandmother is kind of around in a way but its pretty complicated!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I should think that you'd need to look into some sort of assistance!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You can't be expected to take care of yourself alone, much less others!  
garrulousGamesman: hey!  
garrulousGamesman: hey!!  
garrulousGamesman: i am perfectly equipped thank you very much!!  
garrulousGamesman: i am fed and clothed and i have all i need and granny and my dog are fine too!!

She looked up, with a sigh; despite her meandering, she had finally arrived home.

ubiquitousUrbanite: I am sure you have a number of excellent reasons why a minor should be allowed to take full responsibility for himself...  
garrulousGamesman: i know 5 languages!!  
garrulousGamesman: how many languages do YOU know missy??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Harley...  
garrulousGamesman: and thats speaking!!  
garrulousGamesman: i can read 4 more.  
garrulousGamesman: potesne legere linguam latinam??  
garrulousGamesman: POTESNE??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Harley, I have arrived at my destination.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I must put my phone away for a few moments.  
garrulousGamesman: a sad excuse to escape our conflict!!  
garrulousGamesman: this is positively yellow missy!!  
garrulousGamesman: yellow!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, very colorful, I'm sure.  
garrulousGamesman: COLOURFUL  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Naturally.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I promise, we can resume our fight in an hour or so.  
garrulousGamesman: but how do you just take a break??  
garrulousGamesman: you lose all your momentum, this is thoroughly unfair!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I promise I didn't plan this.  
garrulousGamesman: i just bet you did!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I did not.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Now just settle down. You can explain to me why your lifestyle is not ridiculously irresponsible soon.  
garrulousGamesman: IRRESPONSIBLE??  
garrulousGamesman: i make my own bed and my own clothes and you are being a terrible person!!

She smiled, shoving her phone in her pocket; she knew she shouldn't take satisfaction in this, and she was likely to pay for it later, but it was Thursday, and she would take whatever cheer she could get. 

Steeling her shoulders, she pushed open the door.

"Hello, Elizabeth," said her mother, stirring a pot in the kitchen. 

"Hello, mother." She took off her light scarf, hanging it by the door. It wasn't really cold enough for it, but it was bright pink, in fashion, and her mother couldn't stand it. "Shall I assist?"

Her mother looked up; it wasn't a question she'd bothered to ask in a while, she remembered uneasily, preferring to escape the opportunity for subtle interrogation, the reminders that she was not cooking merely because she was a woman.

"Certainly," said her mother. "Could you prepare the garlic bread?"

"I remember how," she answered, setting her purse on the table (her mother's briefcase sat behind it, glossy black, but she'd imitated the shape of it despite herself, hadn't she?) and heading for the sink to wash her hands.

"It has been a while," her mother commented. "Is there a reason why today?"

Hadn't Harley's first words to her been, _I fed my family; what have you done for yours today?_ "Would you prefer that I abstain?" she asked.

"Hardly." Her mother eyed a spoonful of sauce, critically. "How has your day been?"

"Another A in science class. My History teacher still is blatant in his personal distaste for the subject. The Gym teacher's slow spiral into depression remains steady. Unremarkable."

"Hmmm." Her mother stirred; she spread butter on a slice of bread. "Do you have any plans for the week?"

"Other than afternoon socialization? A movie on Friday night, a birthday party on Saturday. Jessica."

"The redhead?"

"Indeed." She slipped the garlic bread in the oven.

"You seem busy."

"As are you." She nearly winced; that was going to be taken as a Freudian slip, a commentary on her resentment of her mother's frequent absence, she just knew it--

"Yes. The demand seems to be growing, and we surely need the additional income. I think you're old enough to realize that."

"Oh, I've known that for a long time." She leaned against the counter, watching the pot of water; no surprise it wasn't boiling yet. 

"I suppose I should have realized that." Her mother smiled, ruefully, opening a package of pasta with one long, elegant fingernail. "One tends to forget how quickly one's children grow up. How soon they become independent people."

She bit her lip. _Don't bother. Don't say it. You couldn't win this argument and you wouldn't even want to. Just sit here, and watch the pot, and--_ "I don't think that ever was our problem."

Damn; she was in for it now. She sighed, resigning herself-- going on the defensive always just made it last longer. 

Her mother looked up, surprised, and asked, "What do you mean?"

She sighed again, closing her eyes, reluctant but firm. "You have always treated me as an independent person. We have always been independent people. Have we ever been mother and daughter?"

She waited a moment for the blow-- the dismissal, much more likely the probing, the Socratic dissection that would leave her forced to admit that all her thoughts were irrational and groundless without ever really convincing her they weren't true. It was always swift, and smooth, and syrupy-kind, and it had not yet fallen.

She opened her eyes; her mother was staring down at the alfredo sauce. Quietly, calmly, she said, "I don't believe I ever knew how."

She blinked, a shiver running down her spine; this wasn't what she'd expected, and she wasn't at all sure she wanted it. Too late now, though; though there was a chance the water, finally boiling, would save her--

"I was not a normal child," her mother said, and poured linguini from the box into the pot, watching it with rather sharper focus than the task required. "Nor was I raised in a normal family-- though in my work I have come to believe that such a term is utter fantasy. If I have not explained, it is because I have not had the words for it-- and because I have been trying to give you a childhood, as best as I know how. I think we are not well-suited to it."

Her mother picked up a spoon, stirring the pasta-- an _actual nervous habit_ , she realized, with a shiver; actual anxiety, actual weakness--

\--For years, she had believed that she saw her mother as she was, never putting her up on a pedestal, never reviling nor worshiping her as she had seen so many of her friends do. But unflappable, statue-cold and smooth, ineffable-- had she made of her mother any less of a legend--?

"I was a serious child, and so were you; but I think it is not such a handicap. I preferred to let you behave and grow as you would... to be honest, I would not have known how to stamp it out of you if I tried. And I doubt I would have tried. I take pride in my analytical side, my objectivity. And yet, at least as I have practiced it, it has downsides."

Her mother raised her head, looking over at her; she was reminded, once again, that she had her mother's eyes, a striking, nearly an alien, shade of violet. "My best might have been a poor effort," said her mother, quietly, "but I promise you, Elizabeth: it was, in fact, my best."

She found herself reaching out, clumsily, taking her mother's hand. Part of her still thought this had to be a _trap_ , somehow, and a much larger part wanted the-- emotion and awkwardness-- to pass as quickly as possible; but there was nothing else she could do.

"What can I do?" her mother asked; not pleading, not overly dramatic nor earnest; but just a little sad, and she found herself compelled to answer.

"I just... want to know you," she said. "We... feel a bit like housemates. I suppose."

"I, must concede that point." Her mother smiled ruefully, and looked away, drawing up linguini with the spoon. "This appears to be ready; fetch the plates?"

She did, welcoming the distraction, still not sure how to take this. She'd thought she wanted something like this, but now she wasn't so sure-- and promises could be empty, anyway. She let it lie, though part of her was tensed, balancing on a knife-edge, as her mother spooned pasta and sauce onto the plates. 

She let it lie, and dinner was much the same as usual; her mother gave out vague, strictly ethically appropriate descriptions of her clients, teased out a few equally vague, mother-safe descriptions of her school and social activities, and chatted briefly about news, politely. Was her mother venturing out a little more? Asking a few more questions, giving out more honest details? She wasn't sure, and probably it didn't matter; how much could one night mean? 

Keeping to custom, she rinsed her plate and retired to her room; her mother watched her ascend the stairs, but made no comment. She closed the door behind her, and let out a long breath, staring at the ceiling; and then she booted up her laptop, logging back in.

ubiquitousUrbanite: I do apologize for the interruption.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Shall we continue?  
garrulousGamesman: oh!  
garrulousGamesman: im afraid i must apologize madam.  
garrulousGamesman: i would love to resume our game but i fear i have totally lost my momentum!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: After only an hour or so? Tsk.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I cannot think much of your stamina.  
garrulousGamesman: it was not the time!!  
garrulousGamesman: though it was an hour and a half and that is thoroughly unsporting!!  
garrulousGamesman: i just.  
garrulousGamesman: got diverted.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Diverted?  
garrulousGamesman: i fear i lost all track of time!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You were distracted from our argument.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That is quite healthy, actually.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It is a sign of maturity to be able to let things go.  
garrulousGamesman: aargh why do you type so damnably fast??  
garrulousGamesman: thats not it at all!  
garrulousGamesman: i lost track of time.  
garrulousGamesman: i tried to keep arguing with you but i wasnt keeping track properly!!  
garrulousGamesman: i was mad and lazy and so i missed the mark.  
garrulousGamesman: now i know what you guys were talking about!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What we were talking about?  
garrulousGamesman: when we were introduced?  
garrulousGamesman: you said id talked to you before but i didnt remember that.  
garrulousGamesman: i mean i believed you!  
garrulousGamesman: because you are trustworthy and sometimes i screw up that way!  
garrulousGamesman: but now i have done it.  
garrulousGamesman: so were all caught up now!!  
garrulousGamesman: or we ought to be.  
garrulousGamesman: is there anything im missing?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Wait.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
garrulousGamesman: what do you mean what??

She read back over the last few lines, a hand to her temple in an attempt to forestall an impending headache; she brought up the logs of their first conversation again, staring at the first lines, looking back to where they had left off.

__ubiquitousUrbanite : Now just settle down. You can explain to me why your lifestyle is not ridiculously irresponsible soon.  
garrulousGamesman: IRRESPONSIBLE??  
garrulousGamesman: i make my own bed and my own clothes and you are being a terrible person!!  
garrulousGamesman: ...  
garrulousGamesman: you arent even there now are you.  
garrulousGamesman: you just put your mobile in your pocket and you are supping with your mother or whatever it is you do.  
garrulousGamesman: not sporting madam!!  
garrulousGamesman: NOT CRICKET IN THE LEAST!!  
garrulousGamesman: aargh i must go!!  
garrulousGamesman: RESPONSIBILITIES call!!  
garrulousGamesman: but you have not heard the last of this madam!! 

__garrulousGamesman : k look here is another thing!  
garrulousGamesman: i just brought down a delicious elk. both i and mine shall dine well tonight.  
garrulousGamesman: and how have you contributed to your familys welfare today?? i think you have not!!  
garrulousGamesman: what else defines responsibility then my lady??  
garrulousGamesman: i greatly look forward to your answer!! 

ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you seriously trying to tell me that our first conversation happened between the cessation of today's argument and now?  
garrulousGamesman: for me anyway!!  
garrulousGamesman: time is complicated. there are a positive multitude of ways to interpret it!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How is time "complicated"?!  
garrulousGamesman: its hard to explain!!  
garrulousGamesman: things are strange here in the wild. i know its different from how you normally think of things!!  
garrulousGamesman: my theory is youve tamed time in the city. all those people expecting it to be boring so it is!  
garrulousGamesman: it behaves for all of you.  
garrulousGamesman: in a way i guess it behaves for me too! but i dont expect so much of it!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What??  
garrulousGamesman: time can be strange out here in the wild. ive gotten used to it!  
garrulousGamesman: quite exciting really.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Could you *please* stop with the Neil Gaiman bullshit??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You realize that what you're describing is entirely impossible, right??  
garrulousGamesman: i know that to you it seems that way!  
garrulousGamesman: but i know its possible because that is how i live!  
garrulousGamesman: also who is neil gaiman??  
garrulousGamesman: i have heard the name i think but i am regrettably out of date on current literature out here.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That is hardly material!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Time travel is NOT A THING THAT EXISTS.  
garrulousGamesman: yes i know thats what you think!!  
garrulousGamesman: and i have long since learned the futility of trying to prove anything to you. :P  
garrulousGamesman: how would you explain it then??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A trick?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A coincidence you engineered or simply leapt upon when the chance presented itself?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Surely you cannot expect me to simply swallow this without protest!  
garrulousGamesman: of course not.  
garrulousGamesman: you dont even believe i live by myself and that is something people do every day! :P  
garrulousGamesman: i doubt i can prove it to you to your satisfaction right now and youd take time to believe it anyway.  
garrulousGamesman: janet said you were a scientist and i am really starting to see what she meant!!  
garrulousGamesman: i guess theres nothing wrong with it but its hard to deal with for me. :/  
garrulousGamesman: but you believe in evidence right?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Who doesn't?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: However, are you familiar with the notion that extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Surely you will agree that your claims are, at the least, extraordinary!  
garrulousGamesman: well youll be getting that soon enough!!  
garrulousGamesman: its only getting stranger from here on out.  
garrulousGamesman: its going to happen quick too!  
garrulousGamesman: its a short steep hill for you and its not going to be easy. :/  
garrulousGamesman: but you are a tough bird.  
garrulousGamesman: a very tough bird!!  
garrulousGamesman: and you will be fine.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is that supposed to be some sort of compliment?  
garrulousGamesman: well yes!!  
garrulousGamesman: :/  
garrulousGamesman: i think i should probably go now.  
garrulousGamesman: you have a lot to think about!  
garrulousGamesman: and i think this isnt really the right foot to start on.  
garrulousGamesman: nothing ive done with you seems to have started on the right foot really :/  
garrulousGamesman: oh well. theres always tomorrow right?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Those claims, at least, I cannot deny.  
garrulousGamesman: you dont have to be mean about it! :P  
garrulousGamesman: anyway my dog would like to play fetch with an elk bone and i would like to oblige him.  
garrulousGamesman: i will talk to you later madam!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Farewell, then, I suppose.  
garrulousGamesman: dont worry i shall!! :)

True to his word, his status flipped to idle; and for a moment she just stared at the ceiling.

It was a well-executed job, but the boy was either playing her or outright insane. Interesting, in a way, and she could almost understand her mother's fascination with the pathology, but as a figure in her life, as a figure in Jane's... it was terrifying.

_To simply tell him so seems dangerous... and he seems to **intend** no particular harm. Which, again, might well be a ruse... But Jane won't react well to imprecations of his character... I can at least discuss it. Plant seeds, perhaps._

_You know, I could even ask my mother._

She considered the strange and exotic notion for a moment, and shook her head. _Surely things aren't **that** drastic yet._

She paused; the motion had brought something strange to her attention. Something out-of-place at the corner of her vision, on the usually-tidy floor near her securely closed door. 

She rose, kneeling down; it appeared to be a book, a note tied with needlessly precise bows of narrow purple ribbon to its front. Her mother's writing, in the unprofessional shade of purple she only ever used at home, elegant, slightly crabbed cursive:

_Elizabeth--_

_Please consider this my first attempt at acceding to your request. I believe you might learn more from this book than I can yet bring myself to say._

_I apologize for the indirectness of this method. You are both deserving of and perfectly capable of handling this information. Thank you, dear, for your patience._

_-Mom_

She blinked, looking at the crack under the door; she'd never noticed that the gap was quite so wide. This was all very strange and furtive and uncomfortable... but with her mother, could it happen any other way?

Oddly comforted, she slipped the loops of ribbon from around the book, revealing a tattered paperback, well-worn, with-- to her surprise-- a yellowed Dewey library label. A stolen library book? Her mother? Or perhaps simply one misplaced, paid for, and found too late. She flipped gently through the pages, and noticed nearly-illegible cursive scrawls in a few of the margins, traces of erased pencil underlines, even formerly dog-eared pages. _My mother? Well, I suppose everyone was young once._

She closed the book again, reading the title on the cover; _So You Want to Be a Wizard,_ it said, and her eyebrows raised in spite of herself. She'd known her mother had a Lovecraftian bent, a penchant for good horror and an equal thirst to mock the reams of dreck that masqueraded as such-- but that, while often supernatural, was different. Wizards? It seemed so staid, so indulgent. She couldn't really like something like that.

But evidently she had once.

She was fairly certain that she was not destined for her mother's profession-- but, like her mother, when faced with such a mystery, she could not possibly leave it alone. Slipping a thumb carefully between the tattered front pages, she settled down on her bed, and prepared for a long night's reading.

\--


	7. Sburb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> garrulousGamesman: hullo madam!!  
> garrulousGamesman: i was wondering if you were aware of that new piece of software.  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: My God, is the whole world Sburb-mad?

\--

She spent the next few days' free time reading through the series, possibly too quickly; she found worn copies of most of the rest of the books on an overlooked shelf in her mother's study, along with other paperbacks she noted mentally for later snooping. She didn't have them all, though; perhaps they resided on her mother's ebook reader now, this shelf more of mementos than of current reading material. Her mother was fond of the physical presence of books, though, the older and more esoteric the better. The modern and the arcane seemed at eternal war within her psyche; it was a phenomenon she could only understand intellectually, as an unashamed child of the modern age. Her taste in fashion might tend somewhat toward the classical, but was not that, too, a modern trend?

Wizardry, though. She puzzled over it, a habit born of too many teachers' logic-puzzles, the habitual last resort when the reservoir of state-approved, age-appropriate material inevitably ran dry. She knew all of the old puzzles, by now-- but this was new and intriguing. 

She'd seen the titles of more familiar classics on her mother's shelves, the robed and bearded wizards of popular imagining-- she wondered briefly whether her mother had read Harry Potter, before shivering away from the thought, unprepared. The magic in these books was framed differently, however-- an art for the modern age, for all of the ages, for all of the races and the species. It was more a question of knowledge, and of wisdom, and of persuasion, talking the world into your bidding; it was blended liberally with sci-fi and pure science and a theology, a set of morals, that she found vaguely unsettling for reasons she could not yet understand. 

What was her mother trying to tell her with this? Yes, a meditation on the nature of the universe, on power and morality and how they ought to be utilized, was interesting in itself, but her mother had a reason for everything, and she was certain there was more here that she was supposed to learn. She pored over the notes, tracing over the sections that still bore the impressions of penciled underlines; there was a shivery sense of the invasion of privacy to it, but she still wasn't sure what she was supposed to _learn_.

 _Nothing ever comes fast enough,_ she thought, a line echoed from the books, and she smiled ruefully to herself. She could certainly empathize with the achingly precocious girls in the series, longing already for an avocation; and perhaps that was what her mother had meant her to understand, that she had as well.

But there had to be more to it than that. Nothing with her mother was ever, ever, _ever_ just that simple.

The question had become a minor obsession; she assumed that it was imperceptible to others, as most of her personality seemed to be. She was, therefore, taken by surprise by the message Melanie opened with after school.

melanie*montana95: omg r u ok??  
melanie*montana95: youve seemed so distant today. :(  
ubiquitousUrbanite: oh damn, i have?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: i'm sorry. i guess i've been preoccupied. :/  
ubiquitousUrbanite: mom is pulling some weird mind game on me again and i'm trying to figure it out.  
melanie*montana95: man your mom is so weird that way!!  
melanie*montana95: its kind of cool that she lets u have your own space and things but that is kinda too far. :?  
melanie*montana95: neway did u sign up??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: hmm?  
melanie*montana95: for the thing!!  
melanie*montana95: ash and kim and ser all have.  
melanie*montana95: its a limited time thing youd better be quick!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: i'm sorry, i've totally forgotten what you mean.  
melanie*montana95: man u ARE weird today!!  
melanie*montana95: the preorder list! suburb or whatever??  
melanie*montana95: luke was saying it was gonna be super cool. its gonna be the next big thing!!  
melanie*montana95: so we have to get in on it asap!! :D  
melanie*montana95: maybe we can set up a server with some cuties if you know what i mean. ;)  
ubiquitousUrbanite: oh! sburb.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: i'd totally forgotten.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: yeah, i'll get on the list when i get home. :)  
melanie*montana95: awesome!!  
melanie*montana95: this is gonna be so fun.  
melanie*montana95: we'll work together great! ;)  
melanie*montana95: neway g2g band practice.  
melanie*montana95: c u 2morrow!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: bye!

To her sorrow, and faint confusion, she had forgotten about the game quite thoroughly; she had to peruse Wikipedia to refresh her memory as to even the most basic premise. The creators had been vague; some sort of co-op play, blending sim building-creation with RPG elements. Details were few and far between, and speculation was rampant. How it had become the next big trend, she wasn't sure, but it was useless to argue with the tides of fashion. Best to ride them; it took skill, but when mastered, it would leave you exactly where you wished to be.

gourmetUtopian: hiiiii lizzie!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, hello, Jane.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How are you doing?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Did you survive that history test with sanity intact?  
gourmetUtopian: i'm fine!  
gourmetUtopian: and yes, it was brutal. man couldn't write a test...  
gourmetUtopian: i was going to use the "out of a paper bag" thing but that just doesn't make any sense.  
gourmetUtopian: "to save his life" is a cliche too but so was the other thing!  
gourmetUtopian: "if you gave him a big red Write-A-Test button"??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That ought to work.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: His usual failings?  
gourmetUtopian: all over the place. i'm kinda learning to predict the material he'll arbitrarily include though!!  
gourmetUtopian: and at least he curves.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I should imagine you would be quite safe with such a practice.  
gourmetUtopian: you're sweet!! :D  
gourmetUtopian: anyway i don't have long because i have that bake sale to prepare for tonight :(  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Indentured servitude?  
gourmetUtopian: don't i know it!!  
gourmetUtopian: she signs up for things and i do most of the work...  
gourmetUtopian: but enough about my wicked stepmother, speaking of horrible cliches!!  
gourmetUtopian: i don't have long but i wanted to ask you, did you hear about that new game??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Sburb?  
gourmetUtopian: yeah!! everyone seems to be talking about it and it sounds like a blast.  
gourmetUtopian: have you ordered it??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not yet, but I intend to once I get to my laptop.  
gourmetUtopian: awesome!! :D  
gourmetUtopian: listen lizzie, i don't want to presume.  
gourmetUtopian: i mean you have a lot of friends, i think! and you can't just invite everyone, there'd be slowdown and things.  
gourmetUtopian: you're probably busy and there's probably a lot of people who've asked and...  
gourmetUtopian: my god, this is like a sadie hawkins.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hmm?  
gourmetUtopian: i should just spit it out!!  
gourmetUtopian: i was wondering if you would play with me when the game comes out.  
gourmetUtopian: or later! maybe when it's later and it's not so busy, that's okay too.  
gourmetUtopian: it's just, it sounds like a lot of fun, and i think i should play it, and everyone's going to be talking about it.  
gourmetUtopian: and i know it's gonna be a shock, given my enormous adherence to convention and my age group's social norms, but i don't have a lot of people i can ask really!  
gourmetUtopian: so if you're signing up anyway, could we play sometime?

She blinked at the screen, more confused by the sudden display of insecurity than anything else. Jane was always so confident, of their friendship in particular... and somehow it hadn't occurred to her that she might not be popular in "real life". She'd had no tales of bullying, and she'd known better to imagine her as a social butterfly, but she'd vaguely envisioned a casual nerd-group, loyal and bold, fighting their way through the jungle of social bullshit that was public school... with Jane the unofficial leader, of course. Due to unconcern, or perhaps vague jealousies, she'd never given it much thought; but the thought that she might really be-- unappreciated-- alone-- was oddly painful.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Don't be silly, Jane.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Of course we can!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Drop me a line as soon as you get the software set up.  
gourmetUtopian: !! :D  
gourmetUtopian: you're not busy??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not too busy for you.  
gourmetUtopian: i mean, no one already asked??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perhaps.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But I like you better.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Moreover, this isn't actually a Sadie Hawkins.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I am a master of multitasking, and their attention, I suspect, shall be largely on other things.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I wouldn't miss it.  
gourmetUtopian: really??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Did you really doubt it?  
gourmetUtopian: i just thought, maybe your friends...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You know that we're friends...  
gourmetUtopian: but...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is it that old canard, that...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've always thought that judging friendships merely by physical proximity was a miserable scale.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We might be "virtual" friends, but you know me better than anyone I know in real life.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: And I like you rather better, too.  
gourmetUtopian: heehee!!  
gourmetUtopian: sorry, it just kinda gets to you, i guess!!  
gourmetUtopian: "real friends" and "internet friends" like those are different categories...  
gourmetUtopian: aah, it's complicated. but, but yes! :D  
gourmetUtopian: you're my best friend too. <3  
gourmetUtopian: you're sure it won't be too hard to pull off??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Even should I have a hand tied behind my back.  
gourmetUtopian: heehee... for you, i believe it!!  
gourmetUtopian: thanks elizabeth!! you're the best. :D:D  
gourmetUtopian: anyway, g2g-- way too goddamn many cupcakes.  
gourmetUtopian: see you soon! <3  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Good luck, Jane.

As the status indicator flipped from "Online" to "bedeviled by devil's food D: D:", she wondered briefly whether the strain would actually prove to be a problem. It would depend on the difficulty of the game; but honestly, she didn't care. Should it come to be Jane versus her friends, the battle would be brief and entirely no contest. After all these months-- had it already been years?-- of staunch (if strange) friendship, she felt that she... owed the girl that much.

Her mother was working late, so she hurried up to her room before preparing dinner; just as she was beginning to fill out the Sburb registration form, her messenger chimed again.

garrulousGamesman: hullo madam!!  
garrulousGamesman: i was wondering if you were aware of that new piece of software.  
garrulousGamesman: it is coming out tomorrow!  
garrulousGamesman: no no wait.  
garrulousGamesman: the pre-registration is opening today thats right.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: My God, is the whole world Sburb-mad?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yours is the third message in as many hours. Half an hour, really.  
garrulousGamesman: oh!  
garrulousGamesman: then i dont have to tell you. excellent!  
garrulousGamesman: oh wait do i have to tell you??  
garrulousGamesman: you shall obtain it right??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes... Jane asked me.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What concern is it of yours?  
garrulousGamesman: nothing!!  
garrulousGamesman: its just an excellent idea i think.  
garrulousGamesman: im going to get it too!!  
garrulousGamesman: not that you have to play with me.  
garrulousGamesman: i wouldnt worry at all!!  
garrulousGamesman: just sign up for that list.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I was attempting to, before I was interrupted...  
garrulousGamesman: dont let me stop you!! :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I hadn't intended to.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Though now I am having second thoughts.  
garrulousGamesman: nono!!  
garrulousGamesman: look.  
garrulousGamesman: dont let me stop you all right??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why is this so important?  
garrulousGamesman: it isnt!!  
garrulousGamesman: are you still thinking im a creep? :(  
garrulousGamesman: madam i assure you my intentions are perfectly pure!!  
garrulousGamesman: i shant play with you at all if that is your wish.  
garrulousGamesman: i promise!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Then why all this concern?  
garrulousGamesman: because janet is playing!!  
garrulousGamesman: and with the client and the server it takes at least two right??  
garrulousGamesman: so that is why i wanted to be sure you would get the game!!  
garrulousGamesman: so you could play with her.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hmm.  
garrulousGamesman: you know i care about her :(  
garrulousGamesman: and you as well!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: All right. I'll trust that you mean what you say.  
garrulousGamesman: someday i know well get along better.  
garrulousGamesman: anyway go sign up!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I am.  
garrulousGamesman: good!!  
garrulousGamesman: see you later madam!!  
garrulousGamesman: perhaps by then i will have learned how to converse with such a perplexing lady as yourself :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perplexing?  
garrulousGamesman: aargh!!

To her great amusement, he fled, his status blinking offline entirely. She switched back to the form, frowning thoughtfully. There was really something terribly strange about this widespread enthusiasm... Under normal circumstances, Harley's enthusiasm alone would have been enough to incite her to politely back out.

Jane, though. She had obligations, many of them, and she couldn't allow herself to duck them. If Harley was actually up to something-- and though he might be hiding something, she believed his claimed motivations-- she could deal with it as it came up; she could handle any plan that strange boy put in motion, of that she had not the slightest doubt.

She filled out her order information, hit "enter", and pulled her nearly-finished math homework from her backpack. She suspected, half-disappointed, that her allotment of weirdness for the day had already been quite thoroughly filled.

\--


	8. Frogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Another perversion? Strider, your depths are amazing..."
> 
> "Harpy," he replied, good-naturedly. "Just kinda curious. Always liked frogs. 'Sides, it is _the_ motherfucking sci class cliche. I've got to explore the ironic potential."

\--

Mel had needlessly complex designs on Luke, and Kim and Ash had partnered in everything since third grade; so she had been in want of a lab partner, and she trusted Strider to not be useless. Certainly she did most of the work, out of impatience and familiarity with the material; he wasn't quite as worried about his grades on the daily make-work. Still, when she asked him to do something, he did it quickly and well, and that was a significant win in the lab partner lottery.

"Frogs," she said, staring down at the lifeless, prone amphibian the teacher plopped down in front of them. "Such a cliche..."

"What, you ain't squeamish, are you?" There was a faint drawl to his voice, sometimes, that might trace to Southern living or a diet of urban music; she hadn't got around to asking which. 

"Zoology is not my passion, I admit," she said. "Nor anatomy. I might not describe it as precisely squeamish..."

"Can I cut up the little croaker if I swear not to think you wussed out?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Another perversion? Strider, your depths are amazing..."

"Harpy," he replied, good-naturedly. "Just kinda curious. Always liked frogs. 'Sides, it is _the_ motherfucking sci class cliche. I've got to explore the ironic potential."

She smiled faintly, and handed him the scalpel. "Or are you simply in it for the blade?"

"Man, you caught me, lady. Hope you brought your shiny lipstick, the journalists are gonna be all over your ass in a couple hours." Strider pulled the textbook over, studying the diagrams carefully.

"Oh, you'll leave me alive? How surprisingly considerate."

"Who else is gonna tell me where all the assholes eat their lunch?" Strider made an incision, almost surprisingly neat; she studied it for a moment, then turned her eyes away. "Much less where the fuckers keep their hearts."

"Might be the wrong organ to aim for. Though brain damage would be difficult with such a blade."

"Take more time than I got. 'Sides, those fuckers got brains?"

"Depends exactly which fuckers you mean." She glanced at him; he had the frog open now, and was studying it with what seemed to be genuine interest-- difficult as it was to tell behind the shades. "There are so many varieties."

"Don't I know it." Strider glanced at the directions again, poked at an organ she didn't particularly want to identify. "You get pissed if I diss your friends?"

"They aren't the harpies popular culture would have you believe them to be." She looked at Mel, whose head was buried in Luke's shoulder, clinging with exaggerated squeamishness as the fullback made far too deep a cut. "...But I am not unaware of their occasional cruelties."

"Meh. You're right, there's worse." Strider extracted the liver; she wasn't sure whether or not that was in the instructions, but she didn't really care enough right now to check. "For instance, your friend's too good for that Luke dick. You ain't into that new _game_ coming out, he's saying he's gonna kick your ass."

"Sburb?" She sighed. "I've been hearing nothing but all week. Mel mentioned it was due to him..."

"Gonna buy it, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Jane's been talking about it too. And what are you doing with those frog ovaries?"

"That what this is?" Strider poked at the mass. "Yeah, I think I remember hearing from her about it. I got it preordered, but I dunno if I'm gonna play it. It just sounds... so fucking _boring_."

"Yes, it is, and I don't know if I trust you around genetic material, it being unviable and of another species regardless." She regarded his experimental poke with a faint shiver.

"Cute, lady. Cute." He was poking at the stomach, now; it wasn't precisely gross, certainly not the stuff of nightmares, but she found she really didn't want to watch.

"Not the type for sim-games, then?" she said instead, jumping briefly back to another conversation branch. 

"Sandbox shit? Nah, not my thing. Guess I can see how it's all creative and shit, but I want some ass-kicking in my games, you know? Even if it's not punching. I'm in it for the pwning."

She raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know the word 'pwn' could be pronounced."

"Learn something new every day, lady." Strider extracted the stomach, placing it by the liver with surprising neatness. "You start filling that worksheet shit out yet?"

"Have since the first week of the school year."

He shook his head. "That is some first-class geeky shit, there, lady."

"I was aware." She tore the page from the workbook, neatly, and passed it over for him to add his signature. He wiped his fingers on his shirt-- she winced-- and dug out a cheap ballpoint, scrawling something at the top of the page that she hoped the teacher had learned to recognize. "Shall I turn it in?"

"Sure, just about done anyway." He paused. "The fuck do you think they do with all these eviscerated frog carcasses, anyway?"

"The traditional response would usually be a disparagement of the school lunch..." 

"Puppet shows?"

"Strider... you are perverted, in the most literal senses of the word."

"Thanks." Strider flipped her a salute, scalpel in hand; she shook her head, making her way to the front of the room to deposit their worksheet neatly on the teacher's desk. She wasn't sure what he did with the frog remains, but they were gone by the time she returned, and Strider had a towel to dry his hands. 

"Shit just about done?" he asked, and she inclined her head toward the clock.

"Two minutes before sweet freedom. Should I turn left or right upon my exit to escape your inevitable rampage?"

"Man, there ain't gonna be no escape for my enemies and you know it. We're talking Uma Thurman without the ladybits, roaring rampage of revenge. We are talking the motherfucking Picasso of unnecessary violence."

"Oddly angled and surreal?"

"So fucking surreal. You'll be all, how the fuck did that guy even get over that door?"

"A double-take before realizing the two jocks in the corner are not actually sharing a passionate embrace?"

"Live recreations of the God Hand cover and shit. Maybe Alien too, depends if I'm pressed for time."

"Surely art cannot be hurried?"

"Oh, fuckers always try."

"Fuckers always try," she echoed, nodding gravely, as the bell rang and the exodus began. 

"Stay frosty, lady," said Strider, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Felicitations, frogman," she answered, putting her things in order as she watched him depart.

\--


	9. Peer-to-Peer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gourmetUtopian: is the pamphlet spiffy :O  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: No.  
> gourmetUtopian: liiiiizzieeeeee you have no magic in your soul!

\--

It was due to drop on a Saturday; she suspected it to be a marketing ploy. Given the unaccountable hordes of schoolchildren taken with the game, what madness would ensue should it be released on a school day?

Important as the game might be, she still couldn't possibly bring herself to go _too_ far out of her way for a mere fad. She woke at ten, and went downstairs; she was mildly surprised to find her mother sipping tea at the kitchen table, perusing the morning paper with her usual look of mild disdain. 

"Your generation might find it difficult to believe," she said, folding it up, "but professional journalism once existed."

"Of course it... Wait. You don't mean a professional journalism that reported _news_?" She crossed over to the living room, searching for the television remote.

"Indeed so; pardon my lack of precision. Actual news, on a regular basis." She shook her head, taking an elegant bite of perfectly buttered toast.

"It is difficult to imagine." She found the remote, and turned the television on; the public broadcasting system was showing kids' cartoons, and not even good ones at this hour. She brought up the guide, searching with low expectations for something tolerable, if not worthwhile. "You've a late morning."

"Yes... Raymond phoned in a cancellation yesterday. No doubt he phoned the office half an hour ago attempting to renege, but this habit of his is simply not tolerable."

"Tough love, as it were?" She flipped to the cartoon channels; there was an episode of one of the wacky-teenage-girl-sitcoms on. She detested the things, but sadly her friends had not yet grown out of them, and she found keeping a knowledge base advantageous.

"As it were," her mother agreed, as she flipped to the channel with a sigh. "I cannot allow my business to monopolize my life. It would be far more damaging to my clients than it would be to me."

"Somehow, I believe that," she murmured, realizing a moment later that it sounded more barbed than she'd intended. 

"True crises are an exception, but I am of the school that a person cannot learn to work within the constraints of society if no constraints are placed upon them." She glanced at the television. "Are you a fan of this particular show?"

"No, just keeping up with my peer group."

Her mother sighed in relief. "I thought it was rather a bit childish for you. So predictable. She'll spend the entire episode trying to chase the rumor-monger down, eventually be convinced that being her authentic self is all that matters and she should simply ignore the bleatings of the crowd, and then it will be revealed that that young boy with the bowl-cut was behind it all along..."

"...It's been on for thirty seconds," she noted.

"Who needs longer?" Her mother finished her tea. "I suppose I will simply be grateful that you are not sufficiently immersed in this dreck to know the tropes by heart. It will come with age, I assure you."

"Mmm." She watched her mother gather her things, neatly, a long-established ritual; she rather thought she could recite the steps by heart if she was asked. "A short day today?"

"Yes... I should be home by four. I shall bring dinner, but for lunch..."

"I will familiarize myself with the contents of the refrigerator." 

Her mother smiled at her, fishing her keys from her purse. "Undoubtedly. Have a nice day, dear."

"Goodbye, Mom." 

She left, taking the car today-- shopping, no doubt. Fatalistically, she continued to watch the show, on the off chance that her mother might have been wrong. Unsurprisingly, she had not been, rendering the time even more of a waste than it might otherwise have been; but it whiled away the minutes until she saw the mail truck passing by their window.

They always seemed to get their mail early; she wasn't entirely sure why, but it had been that way for a couple of years at least. Depending on the crowds at the stores and their time of departure, her friends might not yet have their copies-- or perhaps they had been out and back already, or opted for the more reliable, but pricier, shipping options. Then again, that was no guarantee of timing, either...

She sighed to herself, going out to check the mail. She flipped through a few letters for her mother, business and bills and advertisements; the envelope for her was unmistakable, bubble-wrapped, a green house-shaped logo in bright green. She turned it over in her hands for a moment, studying it, considering what to do. Even if no one else had obtained it yet, the setup time might be quite valuable, given her laptop's somewhat subpar GPU...

But friends or not, she still hated going out of her way for this _fad_. She set the mail on the counter, settled back on the couch, and slit open the envelope with her mother's nail file.

As most things were, this game, too, was overpackaged. She pulled out one sub-envelope; the same logo was printed on it, "Client" stamped in green comic font beneath. She hadn't played many games before, but she had read articles, and perused the literature; she was familiar enough with the client/server setup to understand what it meant. She reached into the envelope again, and pulled out an envelope that was identical except for the word "Server"; a large enough game for two discs, evidently, which worried her somewhat, though it might simply be the normal way of things. She intended to be running multiple instances of these things, after all...

She reached into the envelope one more time, and pulled out a thin, colorful pamphlet, this one helpfully marked "Manual", in much the same font. Dubiously, she read the introductory paragraph.

_Welcome to SBURB!_

_SBURB is the newly-released worldbuilding sim that will CHANGE YOUR WORLD. Starting with your very own house!_

_BUILD your own towering mansion, fully customized! (But if your friend is a practical joker, watch out-- you may find johns where you least expect them!)_

_EXPLORE a brand-new world, created just for you!_

_FIGHT dangerous enemies with our endlessly customizable combat system!_

_CREATE awesome weapons and items to your design with the power of alchemy! (Anything is possible, but be warned, a fusion might not produce what you expect!)_

She glanced at the screencaps, almost too small to be legible, shaking her head. _Who the hell writes this bullshit, anyway?_

Hoping that the rest of the pamphlet would be more helpful-- though, given its size, she had serious misgivings-- she opened it up. Amidst other small screenshots she didn't feel like squinting at, there did appear to be some sensible information provided; the first inner page was headed "SERVER", showing the user interface, labeling the buttons; further directions were rather vague and coy, too smug to take very seriously. The "CLIENT" page was worse; it briefly described something called a "strife specibus" and an inventory management system called a "sylladex" which could apparently be managed in many different ways; the description of combat was vague, the rewards apparently building material for the server-side application of the game and some nebulous form of experience. She glanced at the back of the pamphlet, in the vain hope of something more helpful; her search was fruitless. 

"The 'learn by doing' philosophy," she murmured, dropping the pamphlet back into the envelope. She sighed, checking the clock again; probably best to start up her computer now, just in case.

She headed up the stairs, into her room, putting the envelope on her desk. She lifted the lid of her laptop, watched it turn itself on, and then, with a sigh, logged into her IM services.

gourmetUtopian: omg you are already up??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Time differences, Jane.  
gourmetUtopian: oh yeah, time difference!! silly me. :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Also, you're up earlier...  
gourmetUtopian: well, yeah. i'm kinda excited about this!!  
gourmetUtopian: do you have yours yet??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, actually, our mail tends to arrive early.  
gourmetUtopian: :O:O  
gourmetUtopian: what is it like??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Well, I haven't installed it yet.  
gourmetUtopian: but what does it looooook like :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: CD-Roms, I presume.  
gourmetUtopian: liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzziiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The package is white and has the logo on it.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It includes two CDs in packaging and a small, useless pamphlet.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: If that's not what you're asking, I am not sure what you mean.  
gourmetUtopian: is the pamphlet spiffy :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: No.  
gourmetUtopian: liiiiizzieeeeee you have no magic in your soul!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm actually reading more fantasy these days...  
gourmetUtopian: not a drop.  
gourmetUtopian: oh?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Though I admit I am more drawn by the notion of Wizard-as-Scientist...  
gourmetUtopian: ha XP  
gourmetUtopian: i guess some of them kinda are, yeah!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not nearly as many as I would like. But it is interesting.  
gourmetUtopian: inheriting your mom's love of wizards?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I don't know if she really has a 'love of wizards', but given her shelves...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perhaps.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: She is difficult to get to know.  
gourmetUtopian: aw :/  
gourmetUtopian: you will someday, i'm sure!!  
gourmetUtopian: and maybe she's reserved and cold but at least she's not a witch like the lady i live with.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Sometimes I wonder.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But I don't think she'd be an evil witch, anyway.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Perhaps a bad one... or simply amoral...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hmm.  
gourmetUtopian: anyway you should go on and install it!!  
gourmetUtopian: i am going to go fetch my copy. i hope it won't be long but i don't know if the mail's arrived yet and i made arrangements that are somewhat complicated!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'll be here when you return.  
gourmetUtopian: :D:D  
gourmetUtopian: see you soon <3

Jane's status flipped over ("Mail Call!"), and she found her eyes straying over to the copy of Lord of the Rings on her desk. So far, she had found the story somewhat lacking, but it was a classic, and presumably for a reason. The party was headed into some mountain, and she was reasonably certain that some fairly famous scene involving the wizard was coming up soon; she wasn't sure yet what she thought about the wizard, but he was, at least, interesting.

She glanced over at the screen again; it looked like all of the others were online. She should probably just enjoy her free time when she had it; god knew Melanie would call when she needed her...

She sighed, and double-clicked Mel's name.

ubiquitousUrbanite: hi mel :)  
melanie*montana95: oh hey!!  
melanie*montana95: omg did u get the game yet :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: yeah actually. should I go on and install it you think?  
melanie*montana95: well i am!!  
melanie*montana95: but i havent heard from ash at all  
melanie*montana95: and k and s havent got theirs yet!!  
melanie*montana95: so hang tight for me k?? ill call u when were ready!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: oh wow :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: i could try to call ash too?  
melanie*montana95: nah no need liz!!  
melanie*montana95: ill just let u know when were set :D  
melanie*montana95: go on and install it!! ill call u!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: okay then :)  
melanie*montana95: bye!!

She knew a dismissal when she heard one, so she closed the window, frowning; Mel was acting strangely, for some reason, and though deferring this group activity suited her perfectly, she found it vaguely disturbing. 

At any rate, Mel was right about one thing; it was best to go on and set up the server program, at the very least. She slipped the disk into her laptop's CD-Rom drive, hoping the surprisingly low technical requirements listed on the packaging were accurate-- running two games at once, effectively, seemed a bit of a daunting task. 

The drive whirred; she clicked through a few windows of permissions and installation settings, and opened her book as the installation screen appeared. It looked professional enough, cycling through a rather hypnotizing animation-- she leaned forward for a moment as one of the descriptors over the progress bar caught her eye; had it really said something about "implementing gecko hierarchy", or had she misread?

Perhaps it was one of those strangely-named programming languages, or one of those gag loading bars. She kept an eye on the legends to find out, but it was loading surprisingly quickly; perhaps the system requirements were accurate after all.

The screen cleared, and turned pearl-grey, the interface she'd seen in the brochure present but greyed-out. "Welcome to SBURB", read the screen, in a comic-y bold green font, and, beneath that, a long strange code labeled "Your SBURB Address", and (just in case she was an idiot, she presumed) "Give this code to your friends to play!"

Well, she would, in time. She looked down, about to read, when one detail she had missed caught her eye. There was a timer counting down in the bottom right corner-- and it only had a few hours left.

It wasn't labeled, and she couldn't think what it could possibly mean; but it still made her nervous, even as she turned her attention firmly back to her book.

\--


	10. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ubiquitousUrbanite: It's rather eerie, but quite impressive. It will be interesting to see how it affects immersion.  
> gourmetUtopian: ...i don't have a webcam :/  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
> gourmetUtopian: i don't have a webcam.  
> gourmetUtopian: just what is it showing you?? :/

\--

gourmetUtopian: liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzie.  
gourmetUtopian: oh my god lizzie.  
gourmetUtopian: you would not believe.  
gourmetUtopian: you would find it positively incredible.  
gourmetUtopian: the volume of madness.  
gourmetUtopian: akin to chiropteran excretions.  
gourmetUtopian: that i have just had to surmount.  
gourmetUtopian: to get this frickin' game.  
gourmetUtopian: D:D:

She looked up from her book, smiling to see the message, despite the distress therein. 

ubiquitousUrbanite: Was it so terrible?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Also, classification was never my strong suit, but might I surmise that "chiropteran" refers to bats?  
gourmetUtopian: it waaaaas D:  
gourmetUtopian: and yes, yes it does.  
gourmetUtopian: i would tell you all about it but then i would never get to play this thing!!  
gourmetUtopian: do you have the server installed?? i am loading up the client now.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, I've got it up and running.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Let me send you the address...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Damnnation, it won't let me copy-and-paste. Inexcusable trolling.  
gourmetUtopian: oh god, is it really long, too? :(  
ubiquitousUrbanite: 12-35-a1-p4-43-14-12  
gourmetUtopian: that doesn't look like an ip address o_O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It isn't.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That might be *simple*.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: They had to get *cute* about it.  
gourmetUtopian: i hope that isn't a bad omen for the rest of the game. :/  
gourmetUtopian: well, i'm sure it'll be fun anyway!  
gourmetUtopian: even if it's only fun to bitch about after, hee hee :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, God.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The last time you said that, we got banned from a Doctor Who forum...  
gourmetUtopian: that episode was thoroughly racist!!  
gourmetUtopian: and tom baker 4 lyfe man, 4 lyfe :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I would say it was more a question of cultural imperialism and the continued prioritization of a privileged, white, male standpoint above all others.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It was remarkably shortsighted, but somewhat more indicative of systemic and insidious narrative bias than simple prejudice against the species in question.  
gourmetUtopian: isn't that what i said, except with more words?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...There is a distinct possibility of that.  
gourmetUtopian: :P:P  
gourmetUtopian: it isn't n00bish to like 4 more than 5, i am perfectly well versed in both, in ALL, thank you very much, and i simply prefer his rapscallionish ways!!  
gourmetUtopian: ooh, i think it's finally loaded!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I think the difficulties came when you accused them of selecting their favorite Doctors based on physical attractiveness...  
gourmetUtopian: what, you think it's a coincidence they all coo over the prettyboys??  
gourmetUtopian: i think not!!  
gourmetUtopian: ooooh, i've got it started up! :D  
gourmetUtopian: is it working on your end yet??

She checked her screen; the words had disappeared, the controls overlaid with a strangely gyrating logo. She watched it for a moment in fascination, the segments of the green Sburb house flying apart, spinning, and locking back together, before shifting her eyes to the far more informative progress bar beneath it. "Connecting..." it said, and it was moving at a fairly rapid place.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, it seems to be connecting.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It should be done soon.  
gourmetUtopian: drat my lame connection... :/  
gourmetUtopian: at least it is working, though!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It could very well be on my end.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why do these always seem to hang at the last fraction of a bar...?  
gourmetUtopian: pleeeeaaaaase let it work :'(  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, here it goes.

The screen cleared, to show a somewhat plain, if well-rendered, room. The bed actually had bedposts, to her surprise, and frilly sheets; she'd thought hers was fancy for having a headboard, but evidently this game had strange standards. The walls were bare, the windows small, and the carpet thick but a '70s-esque shag; there was a small bookshelf, a desk with a cheap microscope and glassware, and a flimsy desk, with a large laptop perched on top. In a small wooden chair sat Jane, staring eagerly at the screen, one hand taping at her desk--

\--Wait.

ubiquitousUrbanite: That's strange.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, I guess it's using your webcam.  
gourmetUtopian: hmm?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The game.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Unless that one picture you sent wasn't actually you, it appears to be integrating the footage quite well.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It's rather eerie, but quite impressive. It will be interesting to see how it affects immersion.  
gourmetUtopian: ...i don't have a webcam :/  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
gourmetUtopian: i don't have a webcam.  
gourmetUtopian: just what is it showing you?? :/

She blinked, unnerved, studying the screen more carefully. The girl's expression had changed; she was staring at the screen more pensively, now, slightly prominent front teeth worrying at her lip.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Well.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It's not a vague sort of figure at all.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It looks like that picture you sent.  
gourmetUtopian: maybe it found the picture on my computer?? O_O  
gourmetUtopian: does it look exactly like that?  
gourmetUtopian: because i would know if i had a webcam!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: No. You were wearing that pink v-neck and jeans in that one.  
gourmetUtopian: well what am i wearing now?  
gourmetUtopian: wow that is an awkward thing to say, heehee :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Well, you're sitting down, so it's a little difficult to tell.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: An apron, to be sure. And I believe that is a dress?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Light blue. Quite the Alice-in-Wonderland look.  
gourmetUtopian: O_O  
gourmetUtopian: oh, my.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you sure you don't have a webcam?  
gourmetUtopian: i am very sure i don't have a webcam!!  
gourmetUtopian: and this dress is new, ish, i don't have any pictures of me in it!!  
gourmetUtopian: what else can you see?? :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You have a four-poster bed?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: With a rather nice lacy comforter.  
gourmetUtopian: my nanna made that...

She looked at the screen; Jane had turned around, staring at her bed. Was this voyeurism? she suddenly wondered. But even if it was, even if this was a breach of privacy, what could she do but follow this through?

gourmetUtopian: lizzie  
gourmetUtopian: i try to have more decorum than this  
gourmetUtopian: but fuck me.

She shivered queasily, swallowing; she didn't like the haunted look on Jane's face in the slightest.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Should we quit?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You can disconnect, I won't take it amiss.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It is rather, creepy as fuck.  
gourmetUtopian: i guess that might be the reasonable thing, but...  
gourmetUtopian: i don't have a fricking webcam!!  
gourmetUtopian: this isn't possible at all.  
gourmetUtopian: is leaving it alone really the safer thing?  
gourmetUtopian: who knows what the hell could be going on??  
gourmetUtopian: i think we have to get to the bottom of this.  
gourmetUtopian: investigate.  
gourmetUtopian: for science!

She looked a little better, now, a bit more confident. And she had a point. If whatever means of spying they used might persist beyond the game...

ubiquitousUrbanite: All right.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Then, let's figure out what we're supposed to do.  
gourmetUtopian: the instructions were pretty vague! i kinda skimmed.  
gourmetUtopian: are there any faqs or something? or should we just screw around?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'll check, though it is awfully new.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Mostly the server interface seems to be focused around building things...

She moved the cursor, experimentally, frowning as she noticed it was a green SBurb logo; she hated it when games felt the need to alter cursors, particularly when, as it so often did, it made them harder to actually use. 

ubiquitousUrbanite: There seem to be several options at the top of my screen.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: They are labeled select-- ostensibly intuitive enough--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Revise-- to which I currently have few ideas--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Deploy-- the vaguely military associations of which do not fill me with confidence--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: "Phernalia Registry"-- which I can only assume to be some bastardization of "paraphernalia", therefore inventory--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: "Grist Cache"-- a supply of grist, which means fodder, perhaps for the building the manual mentions--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: "Explore Athenium"-- I freely admit to not knowing what the fuck--  
ubiquitousUrbanite: And "Alchemy Excursus"-- perhaps recipes for their much-touted Alchemy system?  
gourmetUtopian: oh yes, that couldn't be clearer.  
gourmetUtopian: why do you sound so perplexed??  
gourmetUtopian: :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I suspect the only way to learn in this system is by doing.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I must admit I find myself rather hesitant.  
gourmetUtopian: well it's not like this is goddamn weird or anything!! :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The other buttons appear to be for the nonexistent camera, oddly enough. :/  
gourmetUtopian: ooh, try moving it?  
gourmetUtopian: perhaps that'll permit me to track down the little ingrate!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Sounds like a plan.

She played with the cameras, a little at first; then, rather by accident, she managed to pilot the camera straight through the wall.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Jesus.  
gourmetUtopian: what??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It appears to be able to give me a view from outside as well.  
gourmetUtopian: what the hell??  
gourmetUtopian: a camera can't do that!! unless they have some outside too??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: The motion seemed smooth to me. But I suppose there's no way to be sure.  
gourmetUtopian: well. jesus.  
gourmetUtopian: this certainly is a mystery!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I suppose that's a rather adaptive way to look at it...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: God. I'm becoming my mother.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm jiggling the camera around your room, do you see anything?  
gourmetUtopian: not at all :/  
gourmetUtopian: i guess this isn't going to work yet!  
gourmetUtopian: maybe if i fetch some flour from the kitchen...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That sounds... messy.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But sometimes mess must be created in the name of Science...  
gourmetUtopian: you know i think i'll fetch some right now!

On the screen, Jane jumped up, throwing herself out the door with admirable energy; she realized, after a moment, that she was instinctively following her with the camera, and wasn't as all sure how she felt about that. It was strange, the way she hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking warily both ways-- perhaps for the witch, and Elizabeth leaned forward, morbidly curious to see if she was as much a monster as she seemed--

\--And the room shook, knocking her back in her chair, spinning across the room. The lights flickered wildly; the paperbacks she'd perched precariously on her overstuffed shelves fell, several on her head; there was a strange, hissing roar, followed by a moment of unearthly silence.

The whole world waiting to be certain it was over, she thought, realizing she was doing so herself. Nearly at the same moment, the sound began to come back; a little yelling, a car alarm from a few streets away, the neighbor's stupid little yappy dog doing what it did best.

She got to her feet, brushing herself off; and her next thought was for her laptop. It still sat on her desk, unharmed, but the connection had dropped, and, to her considerable vexation, the goddamned thing didn't even have an auto-reconnect. 

She'd get back to it in a moment; right now, she wanted to know what the hell that had been. She brought up the (rather lousy) local news site; they, being at least prompt, were saying something about an explosion, one on the northwest side of town. Her mother's office was straight west, surely she was safe--but Ashley and Kim lived on that side of town--

She was going to need to copy Jane's address from her chat logs anyway. Surely it wouldn't hurt to check in on them.

She checked their status; Ash was online, but Mel was marked as 'busy', and Kim had gone idle. She'd try Ashlea, then.

ubiquitousUrbanite: omg, how are you??  
ashes*2*clashes: what the fuck??  
ashes*2*clashes: you shut the front door liz!!  
ashes*2*clashes: WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??

Elizabeth started; as her screenname forewarned, Ashlea could be terribly volatile, but she had never seen her start a conversation quite like this-- not even when she (incorrectly) thought Liz had told the entire school about the day she kissed her cousin. This had to be defused, and _now_.

ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've been right here!  
ashes*2*clashes: YOU SAID YOU WERE GOING TO PLAY THE FUCKING GAME WITH US  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I am! I have it right here.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Mel said you didn't have it!  
ashes*2*clashes: WHAT  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I swear to god, Ash!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: When did you start?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: She said she'd call me!  
ashes*2*clashes: oh fuck  
ashes*2*clashes: oh mother fuck  
ashes*2*clashes: of fucking course  
ashes*2*clashes: liz  
ashes*2*clashes: el-la  
ashes*2*clashes: i am shanking a bitch lalonde  
ashes*2*clashes: (no it's not you)  
ashes*2*clashes: (but i need you to get me a lawyer)  
ashes*2*clashes: (...actually idk if it maters anymore)  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ashes*2*clashes: sorry for freaking at you, i thought you bailed  
ashes*2*clashes: DON"T PLAY THIS POS LIZ  
ashes*2*clashes: BREAK THE DISCS PUT IT UNDER A TRAIN I SWEAR TO FUCK  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What??  
ashes*2*clashes: can't explain  
ashes*2*clashes: have to shank a bitch  
ashes*2*clashes: and things  
ashes*2*clashes: no time  
ashes*2*clashes: i'll talk if i can foxy girl  
ashes*2*clashes: but i am really fucking distracted today  
ashes*2*clashes: DON"T PLAY THR FUCKING GAME  
ashes*2*clashes: fuck fuck catch you later  
ashes*2*clashes: i hope  
ashes*2*clashes: <3

Her status flipped to busy. Kim's, she noticed, with an unwarranted shiver, had changed to 'offline'.

gourmetUtopian: liz!!  
gourmetUtopian: are you there??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes.  
gourmetUtopian: what the devil happened?? i came back and you were gone!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Some sort of... earthquake, or explosion.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm not entirely certain.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane... I'm looking up the FAQs.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We're fucking cheating.  
gourmetUtopian: ...  
gourmetUtopian: well i think that became fair play when they didn't mention the secret surveillance in the manual!  
gourmetUtopian: well. i don't *think* it was in the EULA.  
gourmetUtopian: did you read it?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Who the hell reads that?  
gourmetUtopian: i didn't think so!  
gourmetUtopian: so i guess you can check if you like. i've been poking around and i've no idea what the dickens we're supposed to do!  
gourmetUtopian: of course... i think you're supposed to be doing things??  
gourmetUtopian: so cheating is your prerogative anyway!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm looking on GameFAQs.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It looks like several enterprising souls have started up projects.

Surely, she thought, surely, it was simply due to the brief time for which the game had been released, that each and every one was incomplete.

\--


	11. Meteors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashes*2*clashes: and we were popular together.  
> ashes*2*clashes: and it wasn't that bad!  
> ashes*2*clashes: not like those fakeass bitches they write in movies ugh.  
> ashes*2*clashes: so what was the downside?  
> ashes*2*clashes: it was good. you guys were cool.  
> ashes*2*clashes: i do like you foxy  
> ashes*2*clashes: i know you didn't really like us too

\--

That, she would later decide, was when everything began to happen at once.

gourmetUtopian: well if it's free you should definitely bring it out!  
gourmetUtopian: it can't hurt, can it? and it's probably something they want you to have, which usually means you need it!  
gourmetUtopian: though i grant you i'm a little concerned about the creators' motives here!  
gourmetUtopian: so seriously, go aoihfd'  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane??  
gourmetUtopian: HOLY HUCKLEBERRIES  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I am going to reluctantly assume that a strange white object did indeed just appear from nowhere in your room. :/  
gourmetUtopian: there was a CURSOR for heaven's sake!!  
gourmetUtopian: a cursor!!  
gourmetUtopian: in my room!!  
gourmetUtopian: liz this is weird shit liz!  
gourmetUtopian: did you ever read that comic about dead pixels in the sky liz?  
gourmetUtopian: a game cursor is much, much worse!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I feel a terrible existential crisis coming on.  
gourmetUtopian: oh huh i think that card thingy will fit in here!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...Perhaps later, then.  
gourmetUtopian: it was called a lathe right?? it looks like one!  
gourmetUtopian: what the dickens would it carve though?

Her instant messenger chimed; her first instinct was to ignore it, in favor of the strangely serious game she was playing. But this was Ash; and no one ignored Ash if they valued their peace. And today-- she especially wanted to listen to her today.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Hold on, Jane.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: There's a message I should take.  
gourmetUtopian: sure, i am busy puzzling right now!  
gourmetUtopian: and you got all the free stuff deployed right?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Except for one.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'll find a place for it next.  
gourmetUtopian: good!

She switched windows, keeping a wary eye on Sburb in the background, on the second IM window with Jane.

ashes*2*clashes: you there  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes.  
ashes*2*clashes: oh good  
ashes*2*clashes: cause chaz is a douche  
ashes*2*clashes: and moms at work  
ashes*2*clashes: and dads with his boy-whore  
ashes*2*clashes: like everyone doesn't fucking know  
ashes*2*clashes: like he can't be queer cause he doesnt bake shit or put flowers on the wall  
ashes*2*clashes: or lisp  
ashes*2*clashes: totally passing  
ashes*2*clashes: yeah the fuck right  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I didn't realize.  
ashes*2*clashes: pfft you probably guessed foxy girl  
ashes*2*clashes: youre the blonde chick sherlock holmes, you've got mad intuition :)  
ashes*2*clashes: you know like everything.  
ashes*2*clashes: probably why i didn't tell you  
ashes*2*clashes: good having something you didn't know!  
ashes*2*clashes: kind of makes us even.  
ashes*2*clashes: cause i notice youre typing different today too

She jerked, realizing it for the first time; the grammar she carefully affected with them, just different enough not to seem an obvious copycat, had been completely forgotten in the chaos.

What the hell was happening today?

ubiquitousUrbanite: ...Oh.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I have been, haven't I?  
ashes*2*clashes: well at least youre not pretending  
ashes*2*clashes: i'd get pretty pissed if you tried to deny it  
ashes*2*clashes: no time for that shit  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It'd be pretty stupid.  
ashes*2*clashes: people do a lot of dumb shit  
ashes*2*clashes: ser's fucking AWOL  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't know where she is  
ashes*2*clashes: called me a psycho got her parents car and drove  
ashes*2*clashes: cant blame her i guess  
ashes*2*clashes: dont think it'll help though  
ashes*2*clashes: but yeah she is so the fuck not answering  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why the hell would she do that?  
ashes*2*clashes: lot to flip out about today  
ashes*2*clashes: and fuck if i'm talking to mel after that petty bullshit  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What petty bullshit?  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't have time for petty bullshit  
ashes*2*clashes: i know we were kinda friends for, like, convenience.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ashes*2*clashes: oh god don't PRETEND  
ashes*2*clashes: everyone knows you're weird lalonde they just know you'll kick their ass if they give you shit!  
ashes*2*clashes: and i wanted to be part of that  
ashes*2*clashes: and to hear things  
ashes*2*clashes: and you hear everything  
ashes*2*clashes: did i ever tell you about alyssa  
ubiquitousUrbanite: From grade school?  
ashes*2*clashes: did i ever tell you what she did to me  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ashes*2*clashes: thats a no then  
ashes*2*clashes: but yeah she stabbed me in the back  
ashes*2*clashes: and i was all fuck if that is ever happening again  
ashes*2*clashes: fuck if im "mean"  
ashes*2*clashes: i dont want to be a pussy and get hurt like that again  
ashes*2*clashes: who cares what they say  
ashes*2*clashes: so i did  
ashes*2*clashes: and we were popular together.  
ashes*2*clashes: and it wasn't that bad!  
ashes*2*clashes: not like those fakeass bitches they write in movies ugh.  
ashes*2*clashes: i never saw you be mean to someone who didn't have it coming.  
ashes*2*clashes: you thought about shit.  
ashes*2*clashes: so what was the downside?  
ashes*2*clashes: it was good. you guys were cool.  
ashes*2*clashes: i do like you foxy  
ashes*2*clashes: i know you didn't really like us too  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That's not true!  
ashes*2*clashes: well maybe you kinda did but it went both ways  
ashes*2*clashes: it was more about other things  
ashes*2*clashes: man i am not good at this bullshit!  
ashes*2*clashes: you're the one with the therapist mom youd be so much better at it.  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't know what the fuck i'm doing  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't really know why  
ashes*2*clashes: you're just kind of supposed to you know?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Supposed to what?  
ashes*2*clashes: theres a fucking meteor headed toward my house liz  
ashes*2*clashes: i shit you not  
ashes*2*clashes: watching it right now  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?!  
ashes*2*clashes: just like kim  
ashes*2*clashes: that shake that happened  
ashes*2*clashes: motherfucking meteor liz  
ashes*2*clashes: right on her house  
ashes*2*clashes: we werent fast enough  
ashes*2*clashes: i was dicking around  
ashes*2*clashes: mostly i was teasing her.  
ashes*2*clashes: because i'm a FUCKING DUMBASS  
ashes*2*clashes: and i don't motherfucking play games what the christ was i thinking??  
ashes*2*clashes: move shit around irl and i am all 'woo pranking!'  
ashes*2*clashes: stupid fucking asshole  
ashes*2*clashes: stupid  
ashes*2*clashes: so fucking stupid  
ashes*2*clashes: we live in the same neighborhood you know  
ashes*2*clashes: we always have  
ashes*2*clashes: she was all "wtf ash there is a meteor out there!!"  
ashes*2*clashes: and i am all "nice try loser" like a fuckhead  
ashes*2*clashes: and she is all 'seriously'  
ashes*2*clashes: and that shit goes on for like ten goddamn minutes  
ashes*2*clashes: not even trying to figure anything out  
ashes*2*clashes: and she is all "wtf i think it is headed for my house!"  
ashes*2*clashes: and i don't believe her  
ashes*2*clashes: and i didn't  
ashes*2*clashes: and she was freaking out  
ashes*2*clashes: and i didn't believe her  
ashes*2*clashes: and i looked out a window  
ashes*2*clashes: and there was a motherfucking meteor  
ashes*2*clashes: coming down  
ashes*2*clashes: and everything shook  
ashes*2*clashes: and the screen went blank  
ashes*2*clashes: and i'm a motherfucking idiot  
ashes*2*clashes: havent even checked it out  
ashes*2*clashes: ser was supposed to connect with me but she bailed  
ashes*2*clashes: mel says im being crazy and she's all busy with HIM  
ashes*2*clashes: and its coming for me  
ashes*2*clashes: and i thought i should tell someone something  
ashes*2*clashes: and you're the only one i know who's alive and shouldn't go fuck themselves.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You think it's the game?  
ashes*2*clashes: shit, liz, there are only a metric assload of forum posts!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...I didn't think of checking there.  
ashes*2*clashes: LOL  
ashes*2*clashes: anyway yeah  
ashes*2*clashes: fucked up the game and thats what happens  
ashes*2*clashes: wonder if anyones ever not fucked it up yet  
ashes*2*clashes: wonder if theres actually a way  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Give me your address.  
ashes*2*clashes: NO  
ashes*2*clashes: you stay the fuck out of this foxy girl!!  
ashes*2*clashes: you dont need a meteor joining that stick up your ass  
ashes*2*clashes: and it is so the fuck too late.  
ashes*2*clashes: not your fault though  
ashes*2*clashes: you were a good friend foxy girl  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But I could do something.  
ashes*2*clashes: youre the only one im not pissed with  
ashes*2*clashes: and im glad youre gonna live  
ashes*2*clashes: so live ok?  
ashes*2*clashes: tell chaz im sorry  
ashes*2*clashes: fuck  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't know  
ashes*2*clashes: i don't know what i want to say to them  
ashes*2*clashes: they always have something in the movies  
ashes*2*clashes: make something up for me okay?  
ashes*2*clashes: youll do it right  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Can't you run?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Get the fuck out of there!  
ashes*2*clashes: too late  
ashes*2*clashes: see you foxy girl  
ashes*2*clashes: <3  
ubiquitousUrbanite: No, wait, what the hell??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Get your dumb ass out of that house!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What are you doing??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Goddammit Ash!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Answer me!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Get the fuck out of there!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ASH!

She was half expecting the tremor, this time, but it still caught her harder; her chin caught the desk as the chair rolled out from under her, and for a second she thought she'd blacked out, but it might just have been the lights flickering. They stayed dark, for a few seconds, and for a wild moment she was afraid that they wouldn't come back, and she would be alone, and so would Jane, abandoned and waiting for the end-- but then there was a dull buzz, and they eased on, dim and yellow, before flickering back to full.

She could breathe, after that. Thinking was proving more of a problem. Her heart was pounding, her mind was babbling a litany of _no no this isn't happening this isn't possible no_ , and she was still lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, a faint tremor shaking her hands.

It was a strange sensation, and she felt distinctly unnerved by it; her mind cried _no no no what the hell_ , and she stood up, setting her chair back to rights. 

She brought up the official SBurb site, to check Ash's story. She'd rather been downplaying it, it turned out. The topics on the first page were split roughly 25-25-50 between "HOW IS THIS THING SEEING ME", "WTF is this weird POS and how do I make it work", and "WHAT THE FUCK THERE IS A METEOR HEADED FOR MY HOUSE". 

She propped her head in her hands. There was a part of her that was screaming at herself, somewhere deep in her mind. But that was somewhere dark and small and surrounded by the rest of her, who was grimly determined to get the fuck out of this alive.

She wondered if this was what her mother would call 'dissociation'.

gourmetUtopian: lizzziiiieee!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Sorry. The power supply here is being temperamental.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm reconnecting as quickly as I can.  
gourmetUtopian: well this is really terrible timing for it!  
gourmetUtopian: i think one of these thingies has a timer on it :/  
gourmetUtopian: i don't know what that could mean but it has me a mite frightened!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Understandable.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm looking it up.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How long does it say you have, by the way?  
gourmetUtopian: uh...  
gourmetUtopian: about fifteen minutes?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Then we'd better hurry.  
gourmetUtopian: what do you think it means??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It might be the perfectionist in me, but I'd suggest that we don't bother finding out.

\--


	12. > Jane: Enter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gourmetUtopian: it can't be just because we started playing a game.  
> gourmetUtopian: it's not possible.  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: What part of the last two hours has been remotely *possible*?  
> gourmetUtopian: i don't have long, do i. :/  
> 

\--

She wasn't normally a very anxious person. She wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

gourmetUtopian: you know, i wonder who it was...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is the lathe finished yet?  
gourmetUtopian: i'm watching it lizzie!!  
gourmetUtopian: i'm just wondering who it was who figured that other thingy out.  
gourmetUtopian: i don't think i'd have thought of whacking the thing!  
gourmetUtopian: maybe you were supposed to mess with the valves or something, and it's some kind of cheat??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'll put that on my list of burning questions for the game's developers.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is it finished?  
gourmetUtopian: jesus lizzie!!  
gourmetUtopian: yes it's finished! i have it now okay??  
gourmetUtopian: why are you in such a damned hurry??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We are on a timer, you know.  
gourmetUtopian: yes, but what is wrong with you??  
gourmetUtopian: oh hellfire and damnnation :/

She twitched, though Jane was in a hallway with no windows and couldn't possibly know.

That was probably the problem, come to think of it. When had been the last time she hadn't known something? She kept tabs of all the gossip, all the news, kept herself months ahead in schoolwork-- 

ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
gourmetUtopian: the witch is back. :/  
gourmetUtopian: i hate trying to sneak by her!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not a problem.  
gourmetUtopian: what do you mean not a problem?  
gourmetUtopian: i mean yes i should probably hash out my issues with her in a more reasonable hour, but i am sixteen and i am going to take full aduhco'  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That should do it.  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie you put a DOOR in my HOUSE!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Please go through it now.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I assure you I built stairs.  
gourmetUtopian: what am i going to tell her??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That you needed to get to the backyard?

It was strange, how quickly one's perspective could shift. She could understand the concern-- wanton structural damage to one's house would certainly warrant a grounding at best-- but that already seemed alien, unreal.

Everything did, really.

gourmetUtopian: is this even structurally sound??  
gourmetUtopian: she'll be out again in five minutes!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Do we have five minutes?  
gourmetUtopian: jesus christ lizzie i know this is weird but why don't you chill out??  
gourmetUtopian: breathe for a second!  
gourmetUtopian: breathing is important you know.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: So is getting to the... whatever the fuck it is.  
gourmetUtopian: promise you will fix this?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Fine!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Just go!  
gourmetUtopian: okay okay!!  
gourmetUtopian: i'm going out to the backyard.  
gourmetUtopian: watch me going out to the backyard.

She did, of course; it was also odd how quickly one got used to voyeurism. It was an oddly large backyard, by her standards, a neatly manicured patch of grass surrounded by bramble and oaks. She wondered how much of the surrounding land they owned; she wondered how much she didn't know about Jane and her family.

The answer to that last one was pretty obvious. 

gourmetUtopian: i am in the backyard.  
gourmetUtopian: did i make good enough time for you??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Maybe.  
gourmetUtopian: LIZZIE  
gourmetUtopian: wait  
gourmetUtopian: there is something in the sky o.o

 _Well, fuck._

She sighed, impatient; of course she'd had to notice, and of course it would be at the worst possible time.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes.  
gourmetUtopian: i think it is on fire  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie  
gourmetUtopian: i think it is getting closer o.o  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Meteors tend to.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Gravity, I believe.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Have you figured out where to put that... cruxite... whatever?  
gourmetUtopian: agatha fucking christie liz there is a meteor headed for my house!!  
gourmetUtopian: i think i have bigger problems now!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: This IS your bigger problem.  
gourmetUtopian: what the hell does this matter if i've got a goddamned meteor headed for my house in five godda  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie.  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie do you seriously think  
gourmetUtopian: it is because of THIS??  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie did you KNOW??

It was like a goddamned television sitcom. She'd never been able to abide the things. She rubbed her temples, as Jane turned her head, attempting to glower at her through the 'camera', and actually making a surprisingly good guess as to where it was.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Could we talk about this later?  
gourmetUtopian: that's why you've been in such a tizzy?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Meteors.  
gourmetUtopian: why didn't you say anything??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We don't really have the time!  
gourmetUtopian: yes but if you'd have told me i'd have been quicker!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Could you be quicker now then?  
gourmetUtopian: i mean... you don't think it's seriously a meteor, do you?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I do.  
gourmetUtopian: but it would be on the news!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: And on the forums.  
gourmetUtopian: ...  
gourmetUtopian: you're not serious.  
gourmetUtopian: it can't be a real meteor.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Would you get that thing placed already??  
gourmetUtopian: aren't you watching?? there it is!!  
gourmetUtopian: i have a TREE.  
gourmetUtopian: clearly this is going to solve all my astronomical problems!!  
gourmetUtopian: what am i supposed to do with this??

Fuck; she was right, there was a blue crystal tree in the middle of the-- gizmo. She'd assumed getting the punchcard business sorted would be the end of it. _Stupid, Lalonde. Don't start slipping now..._

ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm looking!  
gourmetUtopian: it can't be just because we started playing a game.  
gourmetUtopian: it's not possible.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What part of the last two hours has been remotely *possible*?  
gourmetUtopian: fuck  
gourmetUtopian: i don't have long, do i. :/  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Shut up! We're figuring this out.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I know you're supposed to do SOMETHING with the tree.

She skimmed through the posts furiously, too aware that she was reading every other line at most, but they were all so useless, gibbering panic and wild speculation, and _fuck_ , she was _terrible_ at this, she was the _worst_ at this server bullshit and she _was not terrible at anything, EVER_ \--

gourmetUtopian: that's okay.  
gourmetUtopian: i think i get it.  
gourmetUtopian: i'm sorry i got mad at you. you were just being a good friend.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Please don't tell me that right now.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane, what the fuck are you doing??

She was climbing the fucking tree, was what she was doing, and how was she supposed to answer with her laptop set on the ground? 

She buried her head in her hands, swearing at herself-- _of all the things to be terrible at, you have to fucking pick THIS??_ \-- watching the leaves rustle, the second-shadows cast by the meteor growing darker and longer. 

ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane, that had better not be a fucking goodbye.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Because it was a shitty goodbye, and you should be ashamed of yourself.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm sure noble, enlightened apologies are quite a popular method in the movies, but I don't think that going quietly is such a good idea.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Suddenly I understand where Dylan Thomas was coming from.

But rambling at her laptop was stupid. She swallowed, dry-mouthed, as the timer counted down; thirty seconds, and Jane fell out of the tree, barely managing to land on the ground instead of the arcane machinery. She was rubbing her head anyway, straightening her glasses, fumbling around gracelessly for nothing that Elizabeth could see, and she thought, _Don't make me watch her die._

There was no way she could look away. It seemed indecent, dishonorable, a disservice. _Don't make me watch her die._

Twenty seconds, and Jane was rummaging behind the machine, skirt hiked up indecently, and Elizabeth felt her nails digging into her palms. _Jane, what the fuck are you doing??_ she thought, but didn't bother typing again. She tried dragging the fireball with her cursor once more. It didn't work.

Ten, and Jane was pouncing on something, jumping triumphantly to her feet with something shiny and blue, brandishing it like that damned kid from that video game. _For fuck's SAKE, Jane--!_

Five, and Jane was rising, staring at the oncoming meteor, saying something-- Elizabeth couldn't tell what. 

_Four. Three._ She raised it to her lips. _Two. One._

The screen flashed, pure white; and in the silence, Elizabeth heard herself draw a long and ragged breath. "Please," she whispered, to no one who could hear. " _Please_."

The glow faded, bit by agonizing bit. There were gray outlines, surely those were really outlines and not afterimages or illusions, the tree and the machinery and that had to actually be someone underneath--

gourmetUtopian: of course it wasn't a goodbye!  
gourmetUtopian: like i'd give in that easily. elizabeth lalonde you should be ashamed of yourself.  
gourmetUtopian: man, that would work a lot better if i knew your middle name.  
gourmetUtopian: it's really necessary for the whole "stern" thing, don't you think?

Her fingers were shaking. The screen was still fading, the fucking tease, barely starting to shade back toward color, but there Jane was, sitting smugly under the tree, laptop pulled into her lap. She wondered what the fuck she'd done. She wondered if she really cared, right now. Then she remembered that she had to.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Rozanna.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: *Roxanna  
gourmetUtopian: what really?? :O  
ubiquitousUrbanite: My middle name.  
gourmetUtopian: roooooooooxxxxanne  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I usually don't tell anyone because  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes. That.  
gourmetUtopian: you don't have to put on the red light!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane.  
gourmetUtopian: rox-an-na! rox-an-na!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, fuck me.  
gourmetUtopian: isn't that what the other song is about??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: If you think I won't kill you, after all that...  
gourmetUtopian: hoohoo :D  
gourmetUtopian: sorry, i'm just feeling a little lightheaded!!  
gourmetUtopian: i don't think i hit my head, i think it's the...  
gourmetUtopian: nearly dying is really freaking weird!!  
gourmetUtopian: phew.  
gourmetUtopian: i think i'm going to sit here and rest for a spell.  
gourmetUtopian: you should take a break too!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I might be able to spare a moment.

She leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh, staring at her pleasantly boring ceiling. Her heart was pounding in her ears, she noticed, a strange thudding sound in the otherwise silent house. 

She closed her eyes; her heartbeat slowed, but only a little. She probably had a timer of her own to worry about, after all, and she knew she couldn't afford to let this 'break' last for long. 

"I wonder if Mother keeps any booze in her room," she murmured.

Her instant messenger chimed, and she dragged her eyes back open, returning to work.

\--


	13. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> melanie*montana95: omg fuck uuuuuuu XD  
> melanie*montana95: this is totes the wrong way 2b hit by a fuckin meteor XD  
> ubiquitousUrbanite: There's a right way?  
> melanie*montana95: idk theres suppose 2b music??  
> melanie*montana95: and like drama?  
> melanie*montana95: omg my life makes sense and now its over~

\--

melanie*montana95: liz 

Elizabeth bit her lip; she hadn't expected to hear from Mel today. She wasn't sure quite what had happened, what Ash had hinted she'd done-- but she was playing the game, and that erased everything, and made her want to hear from her even less.

melanie*montana95: omg liz ur there dont bs me k??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've been a little busy.  
melanie*montana95: fff of course you have  
melanie*montana95: and ur also avoiding me  
melanie*montana95: omg its what u do dont shit me k??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It's rather a hell of a day, Mel.  
melanie*montana95: y the hell r u typing so weird  
melanie*montana95: nm  
melanie*montana95: we all r  
melanie*montana95: u kno rite  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I don't know anything today.  
melanie*montana95: o god ur gonna make this such a bitch  
melanie*montana95: but i cant really blame u  
melanie*montana95: FINE i will b ~specific~  
melanie*montana95: u know i lied about the game right??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Ditching me? Yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: For what's-his-name, I presume?  
melanie*montana95: omg r u actually pissed about that??  
melanie*montana95: u know what this game is, rite??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I do now, yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm not angry.  
melanie*montana95: k it was a bitch move  
melanie*montana95: god it seems so stupid now  
melanie*montana95: omg lets flirt with the ~booooy~!!  
melanie*montana95: who isnt even that fricking cute!!  
melanie*montana95: k thats a lie hes exactly that effing cute  
melanie*montana95: whod dump me for u in a second anyway  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Wait.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
melanie*montana95: omg u didnt even know??  
melanie*montana95: omgloooool youd never date him in a million yeaaaars would u  
melanie*montana95: idk if youd date ne1 at all  
melanie*montana95: but he wasnt even on your frickin radar was he??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...No.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I... didn't like him much.  
melanie*montana95: ha well yeah u got better taste than me  
melanie*montana95: ditched me 4 his friends  
melanie*montana95: i had this ~plaaaaan~ liz  
melanie*montana95: it was a loooong plan  
melanie*montana95: and it was starting 2day  
melanie*montana95: i was going 2 take over  
melanie*montana95: and every1 would b my friends  
melanie*montana95: and i would b the star  
melanie*montana95: and then hed b in2 me  
melanie*montana95: ha i knew thats what it was  
melanie*montana95: football stars r supposed 2 like the hot blond popular chicks  
melanie*montana95: i dont think he even thinks ur that hot  
melanie*montana95: its about...  
melanie*montana95: fff what it is called...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Status?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Trophies?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What one represents, rather than what one is?  
melanie*montana95: lol if he caught u typing this brainy shit hed fly off the god damn handle  
melanie*montana95: ~omg does not compuuuuute~  
melanie*montana95: dumbass  
melanie*montana95: but yeah  
melanie*montana95: he wanted the popular chick  
melanie*montana95: and i dont thinkhe cared who that was  
melanie*montana95: so i wanted it 2b me  
melanie*montana95: which is seeming a lot dumber than it did this morning!!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A lot of things are, yeah. :/  
melanie*montana95: so yeah i was gonna screw you over  
melanie*montana95: and i wanna say sorry  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It's okay.  
melanie*montana95: no its not  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes it is.  
melanie*montana95: is not  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is so.  
melanie*montana95: is not  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Is so.  
melanie*montana95: omg fuck uuuuuuu XD  
melanie*montana95: this is totes the wrong way 2b hit by a fuckin meteor XD  
ubiquitousUrbanite: There's a right way?  
melanie*montana95: idk theres suppose 2b music??  
melanie*montana95: and like drama?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Weepy emotional declarations?  
melanie*montana95: omg bro u were the only 1 i ever wuved~  
melanie*montana95: and like  
melanie*montana95: omg my life makes sense and now its over~  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yeah, shit like that I think.  
melanie*montana95: i figured it made sense but right now??  
melanie*montana95: holy shit im not seeing it at all.  
melanie*montana95: and its like  
melanie*montana95: y WOULD everything suddenly make sense??  
melanie*montana95: like  
melanie*montana95: nothing makes sense!!  
melanie*montana95: i guess mayb if it means something??  
melanie*montana95: cause this doesnt at all!!  
melanie*montana95: god this is the worst death ever  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Send me your address.  
melanie*montana95: aw hell no ur not dying 4 me bitch :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've already got a server running, bitch :P  
melanie*montana95: what??  
melanie*montana95: nooooo i thought u were free!!  
melanie*montana95: have u got someone 2 bail ur skinny ass out??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I think so.  
melanie*montana95: girl u better cos u cant doubledip these things!1  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
melanie*montana95: cant like  
melanie*montana95: wtf did he say  
melanie*montana95: "operate more than one instance"  
melanie*montana95: whatever the hell that means  
ubiquitousUrbanite: There's got to be a way around that.  
melanie*montana95: not in 2 minutes :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Well.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Fuck.  
melanie*montana95: yeah i no rite??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Look, if I can't help you, can you at least try to GTFO??  
melanie*montana95: think itll help?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It can't really HURT, can it??  
melanie*montana95: moving target huh?  
melanie*montana95: yeah  
melanie*montana95: yeah its worth a try :)  
melanie*montana95: k liz  
melanie*montana95: gtfoing  
melanie*montana95: or however u say that  
melanie*montana95: sorry for my bs today  
melanie*montana95: and good luck!!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: See you later.  
melanie*montana95: goodbye :)

The connection closed, and Elizabeth found her hands were clenched, nails digging into her palms.

Mel said "bai", or "ttyl", or "c u", or "byebye", or "sayonara", or "laters". Mel did not say "goodbye".

 _Maybe it's just in case,_ she thought, faintly. _Please, let it have been just in case._

_Please let her be running..._

She should have said something sooner.

She shook herself, sitting up; moping wouldn't help her. She'd allowed the severely unexpected circumstances to throw her, but in the end, this wasn't so different a problem from any other she'd ever faced. If she could just focus, and keep a cool head, she could play it just like she played everything else. Cool, collected, detached; that was who she was, right?

Of course it was...

\--


	14. Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ubiquitousUrbanite: Sure you're ready?  
> gourmetUtopian: course! there is adventuring blood in my veins. :B  
> gourmetUtopian: or that's what i used to tell my kindergarten teacher!  
> gourmetUtopian: she was never impressed either...  
> 

\--

gourmetUtopian: right! well i think we've recovered a bit from that scare.  
gourmetUtopian: i'd best see what's about!

She glanced away from the FAQ; it looked as if, like all the others, it had cut off long before what seemed to be the game's "start". Though they had done something interesting with that peculiar ball of light...

ubiquitousUrbanite: Sure you're ready?  
gourmetUtopian: course! there is adventuring blood in my veins. :B  
gourmetUtopian: or that's what i used to tell my kindergarten teacher!  
gourmetUtopian: she was never impressed either.  
gourmetUtopian: i was positively insufferable for a year after some mad librarian let me get my grubby mitts on some doyle.  
gourmetUtopian: but the game is afoot!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Indeed so.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Let me scout for you.  
gourmetUtopian: okay!

She said 'okay', but she was already headed back for the house; Elizabeth sighed and hit the camera's zoom button.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, dear.  
gourmetUtopian: eh?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: There are... creatures.  
gourmetUtopian: the witch brought home a beau?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Har har.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Little black monsters, Jane. Beware.  
gourmetUtopian: are you being racist?? :o  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Jane.  
gourmetUtopian: yes yes npcs random battles i got it liz!!  
gourmetUtopian: i don't see anything up ahead though. i'm in the clear?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: They seem to be congregating around the house, yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I don't know what might cause them to aggress...  
gourmetUtopian: maybe they are simple kindly npcs using my house as refuge!! :o  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Because this game has shown abundant mercy so far.  
gourmetUtopian: ha ha :P  
gourmetUtopian: still, there's no reason to assume!

Perhaps there wasn't, though, given the fangs, Liz found herself less than convinced.

gourmetUtopian: oh, okay, i see them now.  
gourmetUtopian: not the friendliest-looking but one shouldn't judge by appearances!  
gourmetUtopian: i'm going to see if i can sneak around them or not.  
gourmetUtopian: keep an eye out for me, k? :D  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Absolutely.

Jane closed the laptop, assuming a defensive stance; Elizabeth kept a wary eye on the imp as she edged closer. Most such things had an attack radius, didn't they? A certain proximity beyond which they would take the initiative. Though, that was hardly the only model. Some would attack on sight...

...But Jane should be well within this one's vision by now, so that theory could be discounted. A good thing; otherwise, with how thickly they were grouped, one misstep and you'd have a, what did the internet call it? A "zerg rush" on your hands. These seemed to still be passive-- they might even be lucky enough that these would only aggress when attacked, but surely they had no such reserves of luck today?

She was within a yard of it now-- and getting cocky. Liz groaned as Jane leaned forward, waving a hand in front of the creature's face-- it growled, but it didn't seem to be making any movements, not yet--

Something flashed in the corner of her eye, and she jumped, cursor skittering away; she hadn't been looking that direction, it was something different, how had she missed it--

She'd missed it, she thought, staring at the hand around Jane's wrist, because she'd idiotically assumed that Jane meant to keep an eye out for the _monsters_.

The game didn't transmit sound; God or more likely Satan alone knew why. The laptop slipped from Jane's other arm. The woman was yelling; Elizabeth was usually relatively good at reading lips, but this woman's red-painted lips were twisted in a snarl, blurred by the pixels-- so this was the Witch. Jane was trying to tug away, yelling something herself--

The woman raised a hand, and brought it down, against Jane's cheek.

For a second, a full second, Elizabeth didn't understand.

Then she reclaimed her cursor, and brought it down, yanking the witch off the ground with exquisite delicacy.

She stared at the screen, arms trembling, pulse pounding in her ears. It would be terribly easy. 

Her computer chimed; she barely heard it. It would take no more than a mouse gesture. A quick one; one side of the screen to the other. Probably not even a particularly violent one. That would be all it would take, to snap the woman's spine like a green twig.

Greenstick fractures, they were called.

Jane was waving her arms at the camera. She was saying something that looked a lot like 'stop'.

She took a deep breath. _Jumping to conclusions,_ she told herself. _Stressful time. No reason to assume she makes a habit of it. Be rational about it. Just be rational. It will be all right if you stay rational._

Lies, and she knew it; but she let them calm her down anyway.

She put the witch on the roof, switched tools, and set to building her a prison-- none too large, either. The last thing they needed was a distraction right now.

gourmetUtopian: lizzie!!  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie jesus put her down!!  
gourmetUtopian: lizzie i'm sorry...  
gourmetUtopian: i should've said but i  
gourmetUtopian: what are you doing?  
gourmetUtopian: is that safe?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Safe enough.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: We'll remember to let her go later, of course.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But we don't have time for that bullshit.  
gourmetUtopian: she doesn't really like change :/  
gourmetUtopian: of course right now i can hardly blame her!!  
gourmetUtopian: i might get a bit handsy myself if i woke up to this.  
gourmetUtopian: i might be slapping some people around in the immediate future!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Mmm.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Anyway, if those NPCs are aggressive, she'll be safer in there.  
gourmetUtopian: they seem to be waiting for me to attack though!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You never know.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What if she tries to get "handsy" with one of them?  
gourmetUtopian: :/  
gourmetUtopian: i, okay i guess it's a good idea?  
gourmetUtopian: that looks kind of small though!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: It's bigger than it looks.

It wasn't.

gourmetUtopian: if you say so...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Bigger fish to fry, Jane.  
gourmetUtopian: oh god not a cooking metaphor D:  
gourmetUtopian: all right, i surrender!!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: This is hardly the right time for surrender.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: This is the time for fighting.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you up to it?  
gourmetUtopian: well.  
gourmetUtopian: yes!  
gourmetUtopian: yes.  
gourmetUtopian: time for the fighting.  
gourmetUtopian: i'd better see if i can get one of these creatures alone...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Shouldn't that wait until we find you a weapon?  
gourmetUtopian: aargh duh!  
gourmetUtopian: maybe i can find a frying pan in the kitchen.  
gourmetUtopian: how was this game's combat stuff supposed to work again??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Strife... something...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hitting things should still work, though.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: There's too many creatures; I'll see if I can fetch you one.  
gourmetUtopian: thanks lizzie!!  
gourmetUtopian: you're a real pal :D

She wasn't as sure about that. She wasn't at all sure of that, anymore.

But either way-- from now on, she was going to be better.

\--


	15. Aggress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm not flipping out.  
> ultimateGrandmaster: youre trying so hard not to do cartwheels you dont even realize youre doing backflips  
> ultimateGrandmaster: flipping is going on regardless lalonde  
> 

\--

gourmetUtopian: you know, i think all that blinking is trying to tell me something :/

It seemed possible, now she thought of it; the blue ball of light was pulsating in a rather unnatural fashion. She wondered why she hadn't thought of it herself. Maybe it was all the distractions. Maybe she was getting tired. Maybe dangerously tired.

She wished she'd known this morning that the world was ending today.

gourmetUtopian: i think i have a book of morse code here...  
ubiquitousUrbanite: That would take roughly forever, wouldn't it?  
gourmetUtopian: but if it's saying something, it might be important!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I suppose it might.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Can you even get to it, though?  
gourmetUtopian: grr...  
gourmetUtopian: this blasted imp!!  
gourmetUtopian: the devil is directly in front of my bookcase.  
gourmetUtopian: it is TAUNTING me lizzie.

This was true; the strange dark thing seemed quite immovable, laughing at Jane's daring feints. As she watched, in fact, it stuck its tongue out.

ubiquitousUrbanite: I don't think it's taunting you.  
gourmetUtopian: lizziiiiiiieeeee!!  
gourmetUtopian: it is soooooo!!  
gourmetUtopian: i think i am going to have to teach this varmint a lesson!!  
gourmetUtopian: ...is that how you spell that?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm not sure, I've never seen anyone use that word but Yosemite Sam.  
gourmetUtopian: :P  
gourmetUtopian: lizzziiiiiiiieeee.  
gourmetUtopian: it is a dancing black naked creature in front of my bookcase lizzie.  
gourmetUtopian: how do you expect me to put up with this impudence??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: ...With dignity and grace?  
gourmetUtopian: oh my god lizzie have you no sense of adventure??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not today.

She rubbed her temples, wondering if there was a clock, somewhere, counting down for her, too. If there were a meteor headed for her house as well, already, regardless of whether she played along or not. If she were imagining the faint tremors that seemed to shake the building every so often. Everyone at school had been talking about the game.

How large were those meteors? How much of the city was going to be left, after this?

Was there going to be an 'after this' at all?

She simply couldn't deal with both at once. If she were going to help Jane out of this-- she couldn't think of anything else.

gourmetUtopian: i'm going to do it lizzie.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But what if it sets them all off?  
gourmetUtopian: then i'll beat them all, dammit!  
gourmetUtopian: it's about time i got started.  
gourmetUtopian: besides. you'll help me out! :3

Yes. Yes, she would.

ubiquitousUrbanite: All right, if you must.

She started to type a caution, but Jane was already swinging her cast-iron pan with surprising glee. (Weren't those things damn heavy? she thought idly. She hadn't expected her to have such muscle.) The beast's counterattack came--

\--and it seemed surprisingly ineffectual, really, a scrabbling of dark claws that Jane kept well out of range of. She glanced around at the other creatures-- none of them seemed alarmed, though many were watching. She didn't think much of the AI of these creatures, though at this point, she could hardly complain.

They seemed to have a great deal of HP, though, as the creature withstood whack after whack-- Elizabeth wondered if she could perhaps drop the bookshelf on top of it or something, but then she realized that she could have just _moved the stupid bookshelf_ , and by the time she looked up from her spectacular facepalm combo, the creature was exploding into a small shower of freakishly large gems. 

Jane grinned, pumping her fist, and grabbed her laptop again.

gourmetUtopian: victory!!  
gourmetUtopian: doubting lizzie :P  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, yes.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How shall you reap the spoils?

Jane blinked, setting the laptop down again, and knelt down, examining the nearest blue crystal curiously. She poked it, gently-- and it disappeared.

gourmetUtopian: huh, i didn't even touch it!  
gourmetUtopian: i guess this is what it is like to pick things up in video games. i hadn't thought about it.  
gourmetUtopian: i guess i assumed they didn't have the time to make the little person bend over and pick stuff up?

She stepped over in the midst of the other gems, which vanished just as quickly; Elizabeth noticed the grist counters rolling upward. So this was how you got building materials. How... vicious.

gourmetUtopian: well! that is good to know.  
gourmetUtopian: and rather convenient!  
gourmetUtopian: now i shall hit the books!

Jane knelt down, squinting at the bottom shelf, the dark creatures _still_ taking no notice of her-- and Elizabeth's IM service chimed. 

_Mel?_ she thought, her heart jumping-- and falling, in confusion, as she saw the username. For a moment, it baffled her, unfamiliar, quite the last thing on her mind.

ultimateGrandmaster: yo lady  
ultimateGrandmaster: Lalonde

Oh-- oh yes. Strider. Suddenly she was worried for him as well. Though, hadn't he said he wasn't going to play it? Surely playing it on the first day would be too mainstream...

ubiquitousUrbanite: Hello, Strider.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I fear I'm a bit busy today.  
ultimateGrandmaster: ha no shit?  
ultimateGrandmaster: half my building's gone lady you dont need to play coy with me  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A meteor strike?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Christ-- are you all right?  
ultimateGrandmaster: ha thx for the concern  
ultimateGrandmaster: yeah it was the other half  
ultimateGrandmaster: so its kinda drafty and shit  
ultimateGrandmaster: more than the shithole was already anyway  
ultimateGrandmaster: but yeah i'm fine  
ultimateGrandmaster: think it took out the stairwell though  
ultimateGrandmaster: guess it wont be a problem  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Hmm?  
ultimateGrandmaster: got the downlow on this sburb shit  
ultimateGrandmaster: youre helping out jane right  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How the hell did you know that?  
ultimateGrandmaster: sources.  
ultimateGrandmaster: 8|  
ubiquitousUrbanite: 8|?  
ultimateGrandmaster: 8|  
ultimateGrandmaster: and she's too busy with other shit to hook you up right?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: How the fuck do you know this, Strider?  
ultimateGrandmaster: some kid  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Some kid??  
ultimateGrandmaster: some crazyass kid thinks he's rudyard kipling?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Harley?!  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What the hell!

Her other window chimed-- she brought it into focus, hastily checking the screen. Jane was frowning down at a book, as the blue spirograph thing blinked furiously.

gourmetUtopian: i think it's saying...  
gourmetUtopian: put something in me??  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Oh, Christ.  
gourmetUtopian: but what do i have to put in it anyway?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: A valid, though somewhat unimaginative, question.  
gourmetUtopian: i must have something useful around here...

The (she prayed unintentional) innuendo was too much for her at the moment; she turned her attention back to Strider.

ultimateGrandmaster: look i dont know how the fuck he got my name  
ultimateGrandmaster: unless jane said something cause thats the kind of thing she'd do  
ultimateGrandmaster: kinda wants her friends all to be a happy family yeah?  
ultimateGrandmaster: even if they're on opposite sides of the bumfuck nowhere  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I've noticed, yeah.  
ultimateGrandmaster: but yeah that's what happened  
ultimateGrandmaster: he told me what's going on  
ultimateGrandmaster: lalonde you're one weird goddamn chick you know that  
ubiquitousUrbanite: What?  
ultimateGrandmaster: but i think im starting to catch on  
ultimateGrandmaster: you already know what happens if you dont get someone to play with you dont you  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm playing with Jane.  
ultimateGrandmaster: lalonde christ stop with the coy

She checked back up on Jane, who was digging out a rag doll from under her bed. It looked terribly dusty; she whacked it in her leg, knocking the worst of it off.

gourmetUtopian: well i don't know what it's looking for but...  
gourmetUtopian: maybe with this it can talk or something?  
gourmetUtopian: or write or sign or ANYTHING, seriously!  
gourmetUtopian: let's try it...

Jane got a firmer grip on the doll, wound up, and tossed it into the blue light at great velocity; the screen flashed in a rather heartstopping way-- but Jane was still there, and the blue glowing ball was now a blue glowing doll.

ultimateGrandmaster: LALONDE  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes?  
ultimateGrandmaster: stop flipping out on me and pay the fuck attention  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm not flipping out.  
ultimateGrandmaster: youre trying so hard not to do cartwheels you dont even realize youre doing backflips  
ultimateGrandmaster: flipping is going on regardless lalonde  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Regardless?  
ultimateGrandmaster: cut the parrot act  
ultimateGrandmaster: if you dont have a server youre fucked  
ultimateGrandmaster: and jane's busy  
ultimateGrandmaster: and youre the kind of dumbass who wont even tell her arent you  
ultimateGrandmaster: you act all logical and shit but you're that kind of moron  
ultimateGrandmaster: jesus whod have thought  
ultimateGrandmaster: lalonde  
ultimateGrandmaster: lalonde  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes?  
ultimateGrandmaster: you can load up the client or i can kill you before the fucking meteor does  
ultimateGrandmaster: it's entirely up to you.

It was entirely possible he'd do it, too. She suspected that about him strongly, though she couldn't say why.

She rested her head in her hand; the palm cupped over her ear brought her attention to her heartbeat, steady and too-quick, so much adrenaline in her veins she imagined she could feel it, thick and acidic, a slow burn down her nerves. She couldn't think straight. She had to think.

The way he typed was strangely erratic. Text-speak, punctuation erratic-- and yet, she noticed, correct when it was there... Efficiency? Affectation, a little like her own?

ultimateGrandmaster: lalooooonde  
ultimateGrandmaster: turn me down and i'm gonna kick your ass and hook up with harley i swear to fuck  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Surely you wouldn't.  
ultimateGrandmaster: you know goddamn well i would

That, too, was entirely within the realm of possibility.

She glanced at Jane's screen; she was cross-legged, staring up in fascination as the doll scribbled with a pad and pen.

gourmetUtopian: liz you should listen too!  
gourmetUtopian: i'll type all this out when she's done.  
gourmetUtopian: you're going to need to know this when you play!  
gourmetUtopian: you are playing, right?  
gourmetUtopian: wait, if there's meteors maybe you shouldn't!

She laughed a little. Perhaps she was being stupid, but here, at least, was a _friend_.

Maybe it was time to start trusting her friends.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Give me a minute to get the disc.  
ultimateGrandmaster: 1 minute lady

She switched back to check up on Jane; the situation looked stable enough. And besides-- difficult as it would be to pay attention to two instances at once, she wouldn't be very helpful to Jane if she were dead, now would she?

ubiquitousUrbanite: I suspect, for the game's purposes, I already am.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But yes, I think I'll need to know.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I might be a little busy for a while, okay Jane?  
gourmetUtopian: yeah sure!  
gourmetUtopian: there's meteors! i totally understand!  
gourmetUtopian: and i think i'm safe for a while. i can take these bozos!  
gourmetUtopian: keep the window open, and i'll tell you what betty tells me, and i'll let you know if anything weird happens, okay?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Betty?  
gourmetUtopian: it's the doll!  
gourmetUtopian: i named it after betty crocker to piss off the Witch, hoohoo.  
gourmetUtopian: she always got really pissed off about cake mix and all sorts of premade stuff.  
gourmetUtopian: once when she was drunk i heard her call her a fakeass bitch!  
gourmetUtopian: though i don't think she ever connected the dots.  
gourmetUtopian: well, it's the thought that counts!  
gourmetUtopian: and betty seems friendly. it's weird but it's all okay!  
gourmetUtopian: now scoot! :B  
ubiquitousUrbanite: I'm scooting.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Good luck. <3

She hesitated for a moment; seriously? A heart?

ultimateGrandmaster: i said one minute jesus lalonde i know you aren't dyslexic  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Yes, I have it here, let me juggle these discs.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: You might want to start typing your address now.  
ultimateGrandmaster: why would i--  
ultimateGrandmaster: holy fuck this ip address is bullshit  
ultimateGrandmaster: this isnt ipv6  
ultimateGrandmaster: is this even hex?  
ultimateGrandmaster: why is it hex  
ultimateGrandmaster: and why the fuck can't you c&p it  
ultimateGrandmaster: were these fuckers asleep when they taught about user interface design or are they just lonely sadists?  
ultimateGrandmaster: havent you got that thing in yet do i need to teach you about inserting things into slots  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Though I'm sure you are an expert, I am doing just fine, thanks.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you ready?  
ultimateGrandmaster: jesus fuck lalonde i have been ready  
ultimateGrandmaster: i have composed a fucking sonnet about how thoroughly prepared i am  
ultimateGrandmaster: in iambic pentameter  
ultimateGrandmaster: would you like to hear it

Two retorts crossed her mind. One, she could express her surprise that he knew what iambic pentameter was. Accurate, but a cheap shot, and at the moment she preferred to keep her speculation about his personality to herself.

The second had far more potential to sting, which caused her a moment's worry, but it was both more true and more important; so she found herself typing it anyway.

ubiquitousUrbanite: Strider... you are not prepared at all.  
ubiquitousUrbanite: But who gives a damn?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Let's get this party started.  
ultimateGrandmaster: fuck yes

Party. Right. It was supposed to be a game.

Time to play.

\--


	16. > Elizabeth: Enter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She took a deep breath, and another. She'd never jumped like this before-- she'd never even been on a high dive. She hadn't seen the point in such risks.

\--

She held herself very, very still. Undisciplined flailing would only waste time. She had to think very quickly, but very carefully. She had no time to make mistakes.

She had three minutes and fourteen seconds.

_Don't think about it._

ultimateGrandmaster: tik tok  
ultimateGrandmaster: on the clock  
ultimateGrandmaster: and the party dont stop  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Fuck you Strider  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Are you deplying that shit yet

Fuck; typo. No time to worry about that. She jumped up, trying to anticipate him-- where was there room? 

ultimateGrandmaster: its ok im on this lady  
ultimateGrandmaster: duck

She did; there was an unholy sound of shuddering tinder and broken glass that made her wonder for a moment if the game's timer weren't lying to her-- why shouldn't it be? Would it be _cheating_?

ultimateGrandmaster: toonight  
ultimateGrandmaster: gonna fight   
ultimateGrandmaster: till we see the sunlight

She didn't bother typing a reply; the middle finger she thrust over her head at the unseen camera should be equally effective.

ultimateGrandmaster: you can get up now  
ultimateGrandmaster: card goes to the shiny thing maker goes to the shiny thing reader right  
ultimateGrandmaster: got it covered

She looked up; the wall behind her bed had gone away, a jagged wreck of lumber and bedraggled pink insulation and sparking wires in its place.

Her bed, she noticed, had disappeared too.

ultimateGrandmaster: stay awake lalonde  
ultimateGrandmaster: to your left

She looked to her left; there was a lathe in front of her door, and Strider was dropping a card on top of it as she watched. Again... she couldn't fault his efficiency when it counted.

ultimateGrandmaster: got the pink thingy?  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Why the fuck is it pink...?

No point in asking; she just grabbed it, fitting it into the lathe, slotting in the pre-punched card, tapping her fingers as it started to carve. There was a countdown on the cruxtruder behind her. She wasn't going to look at it.

ultimateGrandmaster: is that one of those vases that looks like the people talking or a naked lady when you look at the shillouette  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Not how it's spelled  
ubiquitousUrbanite: And I also don't care

She grabbed it as soon as the laser flickered off, looking around her rather crowded room. 

ubiquitousUrbanite: Where the hell is the alchimewhateverthefuck?  
ultimateGrandmaster: wouldnt fit in here  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Where the fuck is it then?!  
ultimateGrandmaster: heard of a leap of faith?

She swore, vehemently, and looked down though what remained of her wall. He'd put her bed down there. How fucking considerate.

She took a deep breath, and another. She'd never jumped like this before-- she'd never even been on a high dive. She hadn't seen the point in such risks.

The clock was ticking behind her, beeping audibly, cutting through the fog in her head. _They're counting on you_ , she reminded herself.

She tucked the dowel under one arm, her laptop under the other, and jumped. 

(It seemed to last forever, that moment; just for a second there, she hung for an eternity, the world blurred around her, nothing clear but her destination; the oddest feeling of _connection_ , just for half a second-- and then she was in reality again, and she remembered she didn't know how to fall.)

She even landed on the mattress, but not perfectly, and she swore again, clutching her things close. Her knees hurt like hell as she scrambled off the bed, but they were still solid underneath her, and fuck it, that was good enough for today.

She hurried to the alchimeter, reopening her laptop, and putting the dowel into place, taking a moment to breathe as the machine read the code.

There was a sound behind her. She turned, to see an eerie green cursor setting down elegantly curving stairs to the second floor.

She used both middle fingers, this time.

ultimateGrandmaster: look i didnt have time ok  
ultimateGrandmaster: it didnt occur to me  
ultimateGrandmaster: besides fuck stairs  
ultimateGrandmaster: theyre terrible anyway  
ubiquitousUrbanite: Fuck you.  
ultimateGrandmaster: no seriously

She shook her head, and turned her head toward the tree she knew to expect on the alchimeter.

Of course it wasn't a tree. It would be somewhat _easy_ if it were a tree. Of course it had to be a shockingly pink wine-rack instead.

Tick, tock.

There was only one bottle on it, and a martini glass. That had to mean something. How had Jane figured it out? The tree of life-- beginnings-- it had all been terribly symbolic--

ultimateGrandmaster: mazel tov lalonde

\--The cork stuck out enough for her to grab it out of the bottle; she sloshed the frothy pink liquid into her glass, and hesitated only a moment (what the fuck was this even made of...?) before knocking it back, cotton-candy sugar with a faint, persistent burn.

The meteor was enormous in her sky, fiery and inerrant, her house turning black in the face of its light. She couldn't have more than a few seconds. There wasn't the slightest reason to hesitate-- and yet, it felt like such a ceremony. It felt like it had to be done right.

Absurd, probably; but she raised the glass high above her head before casting it down, stomping viciously.

Her first step missed, of course. She'd expected it, really, though it didn't alleviate the bolt of terror that went through her. She raised her foot again; she wouldn't get many more chances.

The pink crystal shattered beneath her feet.

The world went with it.

The light seemed too pure, too blinding, for fire, but at first she was afraid it was the meteor anyway-- even though she'd been watching it coming for her, it hadn't been quite that close. But logic and giant, well-aimed meteors from fucking nowhere-- that wasn't even the point. Logic and _death_ didn't always go neatly hand in hand.

She couldn't see anything. She couldn't hear anything. She couldn't feel anything, just for that moment, not the air nor her heartbeat nor the breath in her lungs. For that moment, there was nothing, and she wondered if that was what it was like-- if she were about to disappear, or if she'd just exist like this, forever.

And then it faded back into her sight-- the remains of her home, pale against the black of the sky. For a moment she wondered if if were an afterimage that was fading, if the sky would return too-- but she turned her head a bit, and her home stayed.

The sky was just that black, black and starless, with only the dimmest dark silver glimmer indicating possible clouds.

She was shaking; unintentionally, roughly, she sat down on the alchimeter, staring at that starless sky. She'd seen plenty of dark night skies. This one shouldn't seem so alien.

And yet she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was.

This was not her sky. And she was alone.

The bottle was still in her hand. She took one more swallow, and closed her eyes.

When the cotton-candy burn was gone, she'd talk to Strider, she'd talk to Jane, she'd start again.

But for now-- for just this moment-- she was done.

\--


End file.
